


Divergence

by AnonGrimm



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Footjob, Het Sex, I'll add more as I notice a need for them, Minor Character Death, Minor Femslash Sex, Most students engaging in sex are 18, One of them is 17, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Plot, Pre-Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Severus Snape Angst, Sexual Coercion, Sexual Manipulation, Spells & Enchantments, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teacher/Student Sex, Unforgivable Curses (Harry Potter), Vaginal Fingering, Violence, semi-happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2020-08-18 22:30:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 81,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20199217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonGrimm/pseuds/AnonGrimm
Summary: Severus Snape is a mystery that few want to fathom until a pair of girls, one a reckless Slytherin and the other a rebelling Ravenclaw, take a stab at getting close to him. It’s a dare – a game – that soon becomes deadly serious for one of them.





	1. Sixth Year Ends

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not post this story anywhere without the author’s permission. Thanks. Feedback and constructive critiques are welcome, too. Just comment, email me at anongrimm@msn.com or tweet: @MET_Fic (Tumblr: anongrimm.tumblr.com).
> 
> TIMELINE: This story takes place about a year and a half before Harry Potter arrives at Hogwarts. Beginning with the end of the girls’ sixth year, and going through their seventh year.
> 
> Carine Lachlan is the Slytherin prefect. Her name is pronounced carREEN. She is wild and mischievous, rarely thinking of consequences before actions. Arelia Galen is the Ravenclaw prefect. Her name is pronounced arRAILeeAH. Tired of being the perfect student and good girl, she allows Carine to pull her into her reckless behavior.
> 
> The characters, locations, situations, terminology and history involved here, I am borrowing from J.K. Rowling. The main exceptions to that rule are the ladies: Carine Lachlan and Arelia Galen, Serena Kistler, Professor Falchion, and Rowan Fletcher. And the gents: Raegan ‘Decker’ Marcus, Kenneth Shaw, and Xander Silas (as well as other minor characters) who are my own invention. Not making a dime on this.

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may  
Old time is still a-flying  
And this same flower that smiles today  
Tomorrow will be dying.

~ Robert Herrick, _To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time_

“Don’t wait for the sunset to see the beauty in the world. Breathe it in as the sun crosses the sky – for night comes with swift stealth.” ~ AnonGrimm

*******************************  
**Arelia**  
*******************************

It was almost over: the last day, the last agonizing moment. Then she could spend the summer vacation tortured by boredom – unlike Carine, who probably had something wonderful, if malicious, planned.

She glanced quickly over at her friend, two desks up and one over. The wild honey curls were spilled on the desktop as Carine leaned over her paper, guarding it from sight. She was surrounded by her Slytherin housemates, so that wasn’t surprising.

Arelia finished writing her last answer with a flourish. She didn’t really care if one of the Slytherins beside her was reading her parchment or not. The boy was hopeless in general and might need all the help he could get.

Movement caught her eye and she saw Carine smirking at her from under her thick curtain of hair. The mischievous emerald wink made her smile. History of Magic wasn’t Carine’s favorite subject and she eternally teased Arelia for enjoying it.

Then it was over. She felt a little depressed as she obediently put her quill down. Three months with no school loomed.

Outside on the lawn afterward, Carine gave her opinion of it all as Arelia followed, listening in silence.

“I fell asleep twice. What a waste of a subject – and did you see Rogere and Garland trying to steal answers? I guess it’s an improvement – they’re usually seeking a peek down a blouse.”

They went down toward the lake and sat on the grass. The lawn was full of students, most of whom looked happy that it was all over. The crushing stress of O.W.L.s for the fifth years, and N.E.W.T.s for the seventh years, was lifted at last. Yet for them, the sixth years, it had been normal exams in individual classrooms, like the first four years of school. Arelia sighed. The tests had been too easy but next year, she’d have N.E.W.T.s, at least.

“Are you going to mourn the end of school – again – or pay attention to my evil plot?” Carine asked, smiling.

“What evil plot?”

“You have to come visit me over the summer.”

“My parents won’t go for it. They never see me as it is.”

“Exactly. They’ve probably already forgotten what you look like. And you won’t know unless you ask. If you don’t at least ask, I’ll come visit you. Invited or not.”

“They’d mind that less.”

“Fine. I’ll come down to Bristol – but London’s a lot more fun.”

Arelia didn’t mean to tune out the rest of the evil plot, but a familiar figure was striding up to the castle – someone who always stole her attention. Professor Snape.

“Damn it, I know there’s a brain under that chocolate mop, what are you – oh.” The Slytherin smile bloomed on Carine’s coral lips. “Snape. I wonder where he’s been.”

“How do you know he’s been anywhere?”

“He’s just Apparated back, that’s why. You don’t see him outside the castle otherwise, do you? He likes his damp caves too much, the bloody bat.” Arelia looked scandalized, and Carine laughed. “Still harboring that ‘respect for teachers’ bullshit? It’s summer, kid, lighten up. Besides, if you were in Slytherin, you wouldn’t be so afraid of him.”

“I’m not afraid of him.”

“The hell you aren’t. You shake in your little boots in his class, so I’m told. Or … is it love?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Well, give up if it is. He’s not known for inter-house unity. The only skirts he hikes up are dark green ones.”

“Carine!”

“What? It’s true. But I guess you can’t help noticing him. Not much to moon over in a runt like Flitwick.”

“Professor Flitwick is a genius,” Arelia replied, looking away from the castle. Professor Snape had disappeared inside. Hoping to deter the other girl from her favorite gibes, she added, “I’d love to have you over, and I don’t think my parents would mind an extra. It’s me leaving they wouldn’t agree to.”

“That’s settled then.” Carine inspected her fingernails, which were painted silver. Then she looked up slyly at her demure friend. “But I still think you either love him or loathe him.”

“Who?”

“Snape. Can’t blame you, seriously, if it is love. He’s a sexy bastard, plus points for dark and mysterious. Although I never realized you were attracted to bad boys.” She laughed again. “I’ll go ask him if he likes you.”

“Are you mad?” Arelia watched in horror as Carine got up and sashayed toward the castle. _She wouldn’t really – would she?_

*******************************  
**Carine**  
*******************************

At the bottom of the dungeon stairs she saw Snape go into his office. She walked boldly up to the door but paused before knocking. _What’s a good excuse?_ Carine jumped when the door opened. The Potions master loomed over her, scowling.

“What is it, Miss Lachlan?”

_Shit!_ “I was curious, sir,” she began, but faltered under his dark brooding gaze.

“An admirable thing to be, I’m sure. Why are you here?”

“I wanted to ask you something,” she blurted out.

“Then I suggest,” he said, his right eyebrow rising as the frown deepened, “you ask it and be on your way.”

“Yes, sir.” She swallowed. “Do you ever give extra lessons over the summer?”

“No. And you are not one of the hopeless masses that desperately need it, which begs the question – why are you wasting my time? The school year is over – go and frolic like the rest of your idiot peers.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I heard Rowan Fletcher say you did give extra lessons – after classes.” _If she was lying, I’m about to fail my Potions exam._

“Miss Fletcher should appreciate the interest I have taken in her education and keep – her – mouth – shut.” He moved forward and she retreated out into the center of the hall. “As should you,” he added as he passed her.

“Yes, sir,” she muttered. She watched him go down the hall deeper into the dungeons, probably to his private chambers. When he was out of sight, the irrepressible smile she often got in trouble for spread over her lips again. _Rowan can’t have lied or he wouldn’t have been so defensive._

She turned and headed for the Slytherin common room to find the older girl. Rowan Fletcher was leaving school, bound for a new job at the Ministry.

_Maybe she’ll give up the gory details of her so-called tutoring before she leaves?_

Avoiding the seventh years’ dormitory rooms, she headed down a short flight of dark stairs to the right of the common room’s entrance. The door to the sub-level private bedroom suite was open and the tall, pretty girl who had lived there was moving quickly around the beautifully appointed room, packing her school trunk early. Carine called a cheerful greeting and started helping her.

“How did your exams go?” Rowan asked. “I barely survived N.E.W.T.s.”

“Fine.” She shrugged. Everyone knew tests were easy for her. “I just ran into Snape, though. He’s in a mood. Do you think he’ll miss you?”

Rowan smiled bitterly. “No, he won’t.”

Carine sat on the girl’s bed. “Is he worth messing with?”

“If you like it rough.”

_Score!_ She set her expression into a look of compassionate understanding. “I’m sorry. Did he hurt you?”

Rowan studied her in silence for a moment. “No, not the way you think. He’s – talented, no argument about that.” She sat beside Carine and touched her shoulder. “I’m not sure what you know about him but if you think you’re interested in that man, trust me – don’t go there. You’ll only get hurt. He’s the coldest, most unfeeling bastard I’ve ever known.”

“You loved him?”

“For all the good it did me, yes. Just once, if someone could make him give a damn, I’d like to see them treat him the same way. See how he likes his own little games.”

“Ever thought of reporting him? You are a student.”

“I’m also past the age of consent – and I did … consent. He’s never pushed me and he’s very well protected. Our entire house worships him, too. No – I’m glad I’m leaving. The post of Slytherin Tutor is now open, but I don’t recommend trying out for it.”

*******************************  
**Severus**  
*******************************

Retreating from the noise and bustle of the corridors, Severus entered the cool dark of his private chambers. He didn’t light any candles. Stepping to the black suede couch with practiced confidence, he stretched out on it in the enveloping blackness. As usual, when he attempted to seek oblivion, the events of the day crowded in.

_What to do about Miss Lachlan’s impudence?_ The image of the blonde Slytherin prefect shimmered in his mind’s eye. _She is exquisite and intelligent; but perhaps too bold. Miss Fletcher, have you been spilling secrets? To what purpose? Our fellow Slytherins already know everything but they don’t speak of it – not openly._ Yet Lachlan had seemed almost eager. _Fearful? Yes. Perhaps enough, perhaps not. _He grunted and sat up. It was a question that would have to wait for next year. _For now, before the current pet slips away…_

~ ~ ~

He summoned a house-elf and asked it to deliver a message to Miss Rowan Fletcher. She was to see her Head of House in his office before the evening meal. The tiny creature disappeared on its errand, and Severus rose to return to the office. He’d know her mood by how quickly she arrived. If it was soon enough, he could take his time.

_If not – or if she ignores the message?_ His abrupt frown faded into a smile. She was a weak fool. She would come to him, as she always had.

~ ~ ~

Half an hour before the evening meal, a tentative knock sounded on the office door.

“Enter.” He leaned back in his chair behind the massive mahogany desk. Holding his fingertips together in front him, he rested the index fingers against his lips.

“Professor Snape, I got your message, but I’m still packing, and –”

“Shut the door, Miss Fletcher.”

She shut the door slowly and turned to face him. When he indicated the chair in front of the desk, she perched on the edge of it. “Why did you want to see me?”

The slender body was almost too tall, but the face was pretty. She’d been crying and fresh tears threatened now, glittering in her wide blue eyes. Her thick black hair was bound in a tight, untidy braid, and she was dressed in a simple cotton sundress, appropriately Slytherin green.

“Rowan, I’m surprised. You must know why. You leave this school soon. Weren’t you planning to say goodbye?”

“Sir, I –”

“Hush…” He rose and went around the desk, his pale fingers touching her cheek in time, as calculated, to catch a falling tear. “Though we cannot pursue this clandestine affair further, it seems a shame to part without … saying goodbye.”

He traced the moist finger down under her jaw and the slightest pressure there induced her to stand. Then he removed his touch and watched her, studying her. When he finally leaned his mouth down toward hers, it was she who moved forward. Her arms rose to reach up around his neck, clinging to him as she kissed him ardently.

Severus drew her in, his hands sliding over her body, feeling the slight line of her undergarment. Her fingers, practiced over the past year, found the buttons of his black pants and undid them swiftly. When her hands freed him, he gripped her shoulders and turned her toward the desk.

As he bunched the dress around her waist and swept the panties down to her knees, the sight of the gooseflesh on her pale smooth skin in the cold room fired his passion so intensely that he gasped. Her hands struck the top of his desk just before he entered her, and her tears only made the act sweeter.

Her whispering voice floated up to him, intruding as he took his pleasure. “I love you … oh, God, I do … please … please…”

He leaned over her back to murmur in her ear. “I give you what I can, Rowan – all that I can. You’re a fool to love – this is purer, simpler … it is all ... you should ever seek...” _And when you are gone, there will be another. Perhaps the next one will not be so foolish as to love._

*****************************************************************  
**Note:** This story is completed but since I originally wrote it around 2004 and edited it the last time back in 2016, it needs a fresh edit. I plan to post chapters as I edit them. The chapters get longer as the story goes on. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic) (anongrimm.tumblr.com)  
*****************************************************************


	2. Autumn

*******************************  
**Arelia**  
*******************************

After the first week of having nothing to do, Carine had come to visit as promised. For the first time in her life since starting school at Hogwarts, Arelia had a fun summer. Naturally, her parents adored the gregarious Slytherin girl instantly. She adored the fact that they were both too busy to interfere with her plans for their daughter.

Arelia’s parents, all their friends and neighbors, and everyone else she knew away from school, were Muggles. Her father was a neurosurgeon, her mother a psychiatrist. They had accepted the news that their only child was a witch with some difficulty, but over the years, she’d convinced them that it could have its benefits.

Carine, who was from an old pure-blood wizarding family, was fascinated by a lot of the Muggle things in Arelia’s home. They’d spent the first few days immersing her in Muggle music, movies, and diversions.

Then Carine began her own campaign – the breaking of Arelia’s good girl mold, which she went along with more or less willingly, and the utter change in her wardrobe.

“We can’t help the school uniforms, but there’re plenty of opportunities to be seen in casual clothes, and yours need upgrading,” the blonde announced on the way out the door.

The local shops were raided, Arelia taught Carine the finer points of using plastic to pay for their purchases, and the girls had to have help getting all of the bags and boxes into the taxi. After dinner, they dragged everything out in Arelia’s bedroom and took stock.

“Why did you make me get this?” Arelia asked, holding up a delicate white silk nightgown that wouldn’t get as far as her knees. “The girls in my dorm aren’t who I’m trying to impress, are they?”

“I hope not. You needed it. The Ravenclaw blue pajamas are so not a part of our plan.”

“Who am I trying to impress? I’m already disgusted with most of the boys in my house. The Gryffindors are about the same.”

“And the Slytherins?”

“Please. They were never in the running.”

“Except for the Head, right?”

Arelia frowned. “Could you drop that? I’m not in love with Professor Snape. Maybe that Quidditch Captain – the Hufflepuff. What was his name?”

“If you waste all of my genius make-over tips on some insipid Hufflepuff, I will leave you to your dismal loveless fate. Try to aspire a little higher than future dirt-grubbing house frau.”

“He’s nice – and handsome.”

“His family has been a pack of farmers for centuries. Not a decent wizard or witch in the lot. Besides, miss ‘he’s nice and handsome’, if you don’t even know his name, stop pretending to be interested.”

“All right, all right.” Arelia sighed. “Who am I supposed to be after? And don’t say Professor Snape.”

Carine ignored that. “First of all, stop thinking about boys our age. Unless you go for Slytherins, there’s hardly a marriageable one in our class. Aim for our classmates’ older brothers. Hell, aim for their fathers!”

Arelia laughed. “You are mad. So why aren’t you dating a rich Slytherin from school?”

The other girl shrugged. “They’re boring. They’re boys! We want men. Go for the ones who’ve already made their fortune.”

“I don’t need a fortune, my family is rich.”

“So? They’ll want you to marry well.”

“My parents are more interested in whether or not I plan to go to Oxford after I graduate, not which man I marry – and you don’t seem so keen on it yourself.”

“I’m not. My family is. But I want to be free, travel – have adventures. That’s why I want to get into the Ministry or Gringotts, in any job that lets me do that.”

“Your parents are in the Ministry, aren’t they?”

“Yes … but they’d rather I marry rich.”

*******************************  
**Carine**  
*******************************

The warm days were fading. After tomorrow, she’d have to head home for the last week of vacation. When she opened her eyes, moonlight illuminated the bedroom. The dim shape of Arelia lay under the covers a foot away.

A dark spill of rich silken brunette hair fell over the pillows. Carine had talked her into getting it cut. Not short – just styled. The new look had delighted Mr. and Mrs. Galen. It was going to shock their classmates. Arelia could pass for a woman now. Teaching her to act like one was the tough part. The Ravenclaw prefect was too proper, too perfect. Not for the first time, Carine wished she’d been Sorted into Slytherin.

_What a path of social destruction we could have wreaked if the problem of different houses hadn’t held us back! We only ever get to share a few classes and getting together at meals is seen as disloyal by both houses._ Frowning at her sleeping friend, she sighed. _How can I turn you into the wild and free thing you ought to be at this rate?_

Her thoughts turned to Rowan Fletcher. They hadn’t strayed far for long, but Arelia didn’t want to talk about Slytherin’s secret and decadent traditions, so the subject of the Slytherin Tutor had been a private puzzle.

She didn’t know when it had started – probably not long after Snape had arrived at Hogwarts. Before that, rumor had it he’d been mixed up with You-Know-Who in the war.

_Obviously, he was a Death Eater – but one of those claiming they were under the Imperious Curse? Or was he proud of what he was?_ _Mother said his name was listed in the trial records, but they couldn’t pin anything on him. Then Dumbledore let him into Hogwarts. Does the Headmaster know about the Slytherin Tutor?_ _Teacher’s Pet … what are the perks, exactly? Besides the personal suite? Rowan wouldn’t say._

Rumor, or course, said plenty. Whispers in the dorms and in the common room said the same things. The Slytherin Tutor was chosen at the beginning of each year, always a seventh year student and always a girl – a pretty girl. They were generally the smartest of the class, as long as the smartest wasn’t the most homely.

Officially, they took extra classes – some evenings, some weekends – to learn the inside track of teaching potions to younger students in need of help with their studies. Yet the position wasn’t official and none of the other houses had anything like it.

_Do they even know about it? Probably not – no one can keep a secret like Slytherin._

Once the girl was chosen, however that happened, the others all knew who she was because she was given the private room. None of the Slytherin boys would try to date her and they’d give hell to any other boy who tried.

_From then on, until graduation, she is marked … as his._

Professor Severus Snape: in his early thirties; not much was known of his family. The stories were sketchy about his past and no one asked him about it. There weren’t many Slytherin girls who hadn’t daydreamed at one time or another about the six foot one tower of sneering acerbic mystery. His skill at magic and potions was stunning. Even better, his habit of telling the brutal truth to his charges was appreciated by them, even if he was sometimes harsh.

_After all, if you can’t expect the truth from your Head of House, who can you get it from? Some simpering Gryffindor Head Girl? But what were the perks? Besides getting to mess with the ultimate challenge? Does he let you slide in class?_

Carine frowned. She already had that – she belonged to his house. Free help with exams was pointless as a perk – her grades were almost as good as Arelia’s, Ravenclaw’s star. Then a wicked smile wiped away her frown.

_Well,_ _it might be worth it just to hear that velvet baritone whispering in my ear – and to keep the rest of the boring children at bay. Private quarters with my own bath wouldn’t be hard to get used to, either. All I have to do is make sure he chooses me._

Warmed at the thought, she glanced at her best friend again and the smile started to fade.

_What about Arelia? I can’t teach her how to wage war on the hearts of men if I’m too busy playing tutor with Snape._

Wrestling with limited inter-house options, she quickly abandoned fairness and boring common sense to welcome in a truly evil plot the moment it sliced into her thoughts.

_Maybe the good professor is bored. He might need two pets next year. After all, men do like variety. When I’m through with remaking her, he won’t even care that she isn’t a Slytherin. What better way to initiate her into the ranks of womanhood than teaching her to conquer the man she loves?_

The old joke was still funny, but the more Arelia protested it wasn’t true, the more Carine became convinced it was. She turned away from the moonlight and snuggled in to go back to sleep with a mischievous smile lingering on her lips.

*******************************  
**Severus**  
*******************************

Standing in the shadows beside the Slug & Jiggers Apothecary in Diagon Alley, Severus watched the two girls. Lachlan and Galen had escaped their parents and were window-shopping along the street. They had originally emerged from Flourish and Blotts, and were now admiring the new brooms in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies, just up the street.

When he crossed the street and walked back toward Gringotts, he saw Lachlan take notice of him. She said something to her companion and to his surprise, they began following him.

At the bank, he turned left down Knockturn Alley. The sign of the tiny pub he stopped at was too grimy to read but he walked into the Gallows’s Pole with no concern for the suspicious looks the clientele shot his way.

He chose a booth at the back, against a wall. It was dim and smoky in the pub and the waitress was a witch who had undoubtedly served time in Azkaban for something lewd. He ordered a firewhiskey and watched the door and the greasy windows.

The girls arrived in a flurry of hushed argument. The regal bearing of the Ravenclaw prefect wasn’t as straight-laced as he remembered. She appeared as aloof as ever but her clothing was more provocative. She also seemed scandalized to be in Knockturn Alley at all, let alone a pub.

Both her change of wardrobe and her presence in the pub could be laid on Lachlan’s doorstep, no doubt. The blonde was dressed warmly in a dark gray coat, yet her clothing underneath it was not meant for the autumn chill.

When the brash Slytherin spotted him, she gripped her friend by the elbow and steered her through the stares to his booth.

“Professor Snape, hello!”

“Miss Lachlan, Miss Galen. I believe you know this establishment is out of bounds for students?”

“Here be dragons?” Lachlan asked. “We won’t stay long. May we join you?”

Severus traced the rim of his glass with a fingertip. “Briefly, if you wish.”

“We’ve been walking all morning and Arelia’s feet are tired, aren’t they?”

The brunette started to shake her head but the blonde pushed her down into the booth beside him. He made room for her along the bench seat, but she didn’t move closer. Her bold friend sat opposite and smiled at him, catching his gaze and holding it a moment before the waitress returned.

“What’ll you have, other than alcohol?” She eyed them both suspiciously.

“We’ll both have a butterbeer, please,” Lachlan piped up.

“On my tab, if you would,” Severus said.

“Thank you, sir.” She winked an emerald eye at him.

The Ravenclaw, Flitwick’s pride and joy, remembered to close her mouth. The fingers she clasped demurely in her lap trembled slightly. The waitress brought their drinks in bottles, opened them, and left with a grunt.

Severus raised his heavy crystal glass. “What shall we drink to?”

“Slytherin’s victory over Gryffindor the first game in,” Lachlan said, glowing with eager and ambitious Quidditch spirit.

“And you don’t mind such a toast, Miss Galen?”

“What? Um … no. Sir.”

The blonde used her bottle to make sure her friend’s struck his glass with her own. “Arelia doesn’t watch Quidditch much, the philistine.”

Severus smiled at the pink blush that crept up the Ravenclaw’s pale and perfect skin. Her eyes were a shocking light gray. _Is she eighteen? Lachlan would be, by now._ “As I do not believe the given excuse, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

The blonde leaned forward, even as her friend shrank back slightly. “We just saw you come this way and wanted to say hello. Potions is one of Arelia’s favorite subjects, and I thought she might like to talk to you outside of classes for once. Me, I’m just a loyal Slytherin, checking in.”

“A Slytherin is never ‘just’ anything,” he remarked with an arched dark eyebrow.

Lachlan actually giggled – a calculated sound meant to entice. The girl had removed her coat and laid it beside her on the bench. Her low-cut midnight blue blouse offered an inviting view.

_You aren’t the first to attempt to campaign for it – but why are you dragging your companion along? We mustn’t risk house secrets._

Setting his glass down, he crossed his arms over his chest, fingertips stroking slightly at the long bulge of his wand in the breast pocket of his black caftan. Then he set aside the impulse to read their thoughts. It was too easy and the mystery was more entertaining.

Turning to the pale beauty with the cloud of dark hair, he asked, “What would you like to discuss?”

“I – don’t know, sir.”

“She’s nervous. He doesn’t bite, Arelia.”

Galen blushed more deeply. She spoke in a rush. “I was wondering if you would tell me about some of the areas we’ll be covering this year?”

“I could, but it would spoil my speech for the first day of classes. I’d rather satisfy my curiosity about your friendship with Miss Lachlan. It is unusual for a Ravenclaw prodigy to go romping with my prize deviant genius.”

When that rendered her mute, Lachlan swooped in. “We met in fourth year, sir. Double Charms. Lately, Arelia’s decided she wants more out of life – I’ve offered to help her expand her horizons.”

“Intriguing. Unfortunately, I doubt if you are slated to be in the same class. I shall have to monitor your progress in this matter individually.”

“We’d be grateful for your guidance, sir.” Lachlan widened her bright emerald eyes slightly as she beamed at him – a ploy that would have easily pulled many men into her clutches.

The statuesque Ravenclaw was silent, clinging to her drink and staring daggers at her friend. Severus mused that if he were to touch her now, she would startle and possibly end up sitting on the floor. He hoped it was the normal fear of his infamous temper he detected – and not Lachlan telling tales.

Carine Lachlan leaned back languidly against the high back of the booth. After a moment, Severus felt the unmistakable gentle pressure of her slender foot against his groin. The toes, wrapped in a sock, kneaded him into life with an impressive talent.

“Your parents may be concerned about you,” he said, his voice dropping as the prodded lust grew. “Students shouldn’t be in Knockturn Alley at all, Miss Lachlan. You walk where others fear to tread.”

She held his gaze, not stopping her ministrations – she didn’t even blush.

Galen, obviously unaware of the dicey power play being waged under her nose, took his cryptic warning as an excuse to flee.

“He’s right, Carine. We should go. Thank you for the drinks, sir.”

Severus nodded to her. The delicious little foot withdrew as Lachlan stood. His prefect made a face as she sought her shoe under the table. “Yes, thanks, sir – for everything.”

When she rose to join her friend, he remained seated. “My pleasure, Miss Lachlan.”

The girls carried their bottles with them out into the alleyway. The stares and mutters followed them out but none of the pub patrons turned to stare at him.

Severus tossed down the rest of his drink in one bracing gulp. Responding to a gesture, the waitress brought the bottle and poured him another. Taking his time with it, savoring the heat in his throat that matched the heat in his groin, he waited.

He had looked forward to the selection process, but perhaps now he wouldn’t bother. It took a while before he trusted himself to be able to walk out of the pub discretely.


	3. Prima Nocte

*******************************  
**Arelia**  
*******************************

Sitting before the fire in the Ravenclaw common room, Arelia mused over the events of the Sorting and the Welcome Feast. Ravenclaw Tower was quieting now as the hour grew later. In the ensuing solitude, she stared into the flames and let her thoughts wander.

They had acquired a nice cache of first years, all promising wizards and witches of genius quality. The new Head Girl was a Gryffindor, but the Head Boy had been chosen from her own house.

At the feast, she hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off of Professor Snape; except when he turned to meet her gaze, which he had done uncomfortably often. Worse, Carine had noticed. Her friend couldn’t come over and tease her about it, at least. They were still prefects, and had a lot to do after a Sorting.

Tomorrow at breakfast, they’d receive their new class schedules. Teasing aside, she hoped she might have at least one or two double classes with the Slytherins.

_Things would be so much simpler if Carine had been made a Ravenclaw. She’s smart enough – more than some. _She sighed._ There’s no denying that she has all the Slytherin traits, too._

Arelia finally went to bed. She’d waited until her dorm mates were all asleep to avoid their questions about her new look. Slipping into the little white silk nightdress on a whim, she crawled into bed. She drew the privacy curtain around her and settled comfortably – but sleep eluded her.

_Why was Snape looking at me? Because you were looking at him, you idiot, why else? But was it just that?_

The image of his face, his piercing gaze, gave her a delicious shudder. He certainly didn’t qualify in her usual categories of nice or conventionally handsome, but she couldn’t ignore the overall aura of dark allure he created around himself. When she compared others her age, with their vapid good looks that so often hid such drab personalities, they simply didn’t measure up. After all, she’d had a better view of that nameless Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain, yet she kept craning her head to stare at Snape.

_Carine would probably help me if I wanted him, ignoring the fact that he’s a teacher, of course, which I can’t. But say goodbye to all those cute ruffled girlhood dreams of romance in that fantasy. The courtesy of ‘hiking up the skirt’, as Carine put it, might be the closest to romantic a man like that would get. Anyway, it’s not really an issue, is it? I’m not a Slytherin. Besides, it might just be groundless gossip. Carine shouldn’t believe everything she hears._

In spite of that logic, the idea of the forbidden refused to bow out gracefully. When she opted to imagine herself with the Quidditch boy, just to relax, his features kept melting into Snape’s in her mind’s eye. Eventually, she gave up fighting it – but it was his voice, and the memory of his black-eyed predatory gaze, that fired her blood more than any of her old images of imagined sex.

The white silk of the short nightgown was soft, so much more sensual on her skin than thin cotton or thick flannel pajamas. Bunching it up, she let the image of Snape in the booth take over her mind’s eye.

When she thought of his long, thick fingers touching her, as pale as her own but so strong, the answering heat made her gasp as she pleasured herself.

Trembling slightly after it was finished, she turned her head to press her face into her pillow. It had never affected her that way before. The slight aftershocks were delicious, yet usually they never lasted longer than the furtive act itself.

Forcing her heart rate to calm with steadying deep breaths, she called up the memory of that dark, velvet voice again. ‘My pleasure,’ he had said in that bar. The look on his face had made her blush.

_Maybe the rumor is true after all._

*******************************  
**Carine**  
*******************************

“Congratulations, Lachlan,” Raegan ‘Decker’ Marcus, her opposite prefect, quipped as she entered the common room from the suite’s stairs.

She ignored him. Going to the hearth, she picked up three split logs from the bin and confiscated them for her own fireplace. As she headed back down the stairs, she overheard Marcus complaining to Rogere that he’d have to scrap his plans of chasing her. The satisfied smirk on her face probably would have injured his arrogant pride if he’d seen it.

Carine had entered the old familiar dorm room this evening and found someone else’s belongings on her bed. After a moment of confusion, she had turned and nearly pelted back to the common room to check the door of the suite. It hadn’t been locked, and her school trunk and other possessions were there.

When she got the fire going, she locked the suite door and started unpacking. There was a tall wardrobe, a dresser, and a pair of nightstands on either side of a massive bed. A hope chest with a padded seat of Slytherin green velvet sat at the foot of the four-poster, which did not sport the usual privacy curtain. Along the wall beside the door was a writing desk and chair. All of the furniture was a dark red cherry wood that had been polished until it gleamed in the firelight.

The fireplace had no hearthstones forming a bench, although a black metal screen with the Slytherin crest sat to the side that could be placed in front of it. A thick soft rug of black sheepskin was spread out across the stone floor between the fire and the hope chest.

In the back wall, farthest from the door, was a singular luxury – the private bathroom. The clawfoot tub was massive for a single-occupancy room, and even though it didn’t have as many taps as the prefect’s bathroom, she didn’t mind at all. This one, she wouldn’t have to share.

The decoration of the room was largely the province of its furnishings, but there was a wide black marble mantle over the fireplace, and one of the two tapestries in the room hung over it. The other hung over the head of the bed. The mantle tapestry depicted the Slytherin crest again, and the other was an intricate showcase of many different flora and fauna, all of which had uses in potions.

One odd thing was a painted arch on the wall, some feet from the bathroom door. Merely a wide line of black on the gray stones, it had a line of runes painted inside it in silver. Carine had picked up her wand and tried to see if it could be some sort of secret passage, but it seemed to be nothing but paint.

She dropped onto the thick bedding, a green and black theme, in silk, velvet, and wool. Her now empty trunk was closed and leaning against the wardrobe, beside a tall silver candelabrum holding ten white candlesticks. The pile of schoolbooks and supplies were sitting on the desk, beside which was another silver candelabra stand.

A small, black creature came up over her left thigh from his hiding place among the mound of black silk pillows. He sat up on his hind legs, whiskers working madly, his beady black eyes staring up at her.

“So,” she asked the sleek-bodied rat, “do you like our new room?” Picking him up to her left shoulder, she felt him settle and wrap his thick white tail around her throat. “No more cats to chase you up the curtains now, Latimer.”

She rose and stood with her back against the door, surveying her realm. The bed was on her left, the fireplace on her right, and the precious bathroom waited across the room.

“It’s the exact dimensions of heaven. And to think, I was worried about perks!”

Carine continued arranging and rearranging things to her liking. Latimer gave up trying to keep his balance and jumped from her shoulder to the bed and away.

When she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer, Carine slowly undressed, pitching her clothes into a short wicker basket on the floor of the wardrobe. She assumed the house-elves tended this room like the rest, and expected that they would find the laundry there.

For a moment, she had the peculiar feeling of being watched. Glancing around the room and at the closed and locked door, she finally spied Latimer watching her from the wall under the painted arch. Sighing, she went and picked him up, plopping him onto the bed before crawling in.

It was a delight to sleep nude at school for once, and though she was tired, the simple novelty of silence was such a pleasure that she lay awake a while longer to appreciate it.

The absence of dormitory mates and their snores was fantastic. No sounds of furtive sex intruded, when one or more of the boys slipped in to join their partners. Best of all, there were no boys coming around to importune her. In time, the soft sound of the fire drew her down into a deep sleep.

~ ~ ~

For the next three days, she was focused on getting the new class schedule mashed into an actual routine around her prefect duties. Hogwarts was still conspiring to keep them apart, but she did have Defense Against the Dark Arts with Arelia, on Mondays, right after her Transfiguration class.

Arithmancy and Divination dominated Tuesday, while Wednesday was cursed by the epitome of dull: History of Magic. At least it all had the chance of perking up in the afternoon. Care of Magical Creatures often involved the severing of one body part or other from the intrepid Professor What’s-his-face.

Among the familiar run of dull subjects was one she had insisted on taking, though her parents had protested. Muggle Studies was on Thursday, after Herbology, and she was looking forward to it more than most, since it was new to her. She had argued that if she got a traveling job, knowing about Muggle things, issues, concepts, and the like was bound to come in handy.

Potions was on Friday, after Charms, and all things considered, it was destined to be entertaining this year. In the first place, Professor Snape didn’t take on that many N.E.W.T. students, which left him more able to spend one-on-one time with each of them. That distressed many of those who needed to take the class, but who had never gotten over their fear of him. In the second place, as his new Teacher’s Pet, she was eager to discover just how much MORE she could get away with in his class than she already had as a Slytherin prefect.

_For my first trick, maybe I can get him to switch Arelia’s class time to mine?_ His N.E.W.T. classes were a grab bag of houses already but their schedules had put them there at opposite ends of the week.

When she returned to her cozy suite at last, Carine could tell that a house-elf had been by. Her laundry was clean and folded in piles on top of the dresser, the candles were lit, and the fire was blazing.

One peculiar item that caught her immediate interest was the addition to the mantle of a crystal decanter and a pair of whiskey glasses on a silver tray. The liquid was golden. Taking the decanter down, she opened it and sniffed experimentally.

_Firewhiskey? Whichever house-elf cleans up around here qualifies for sainthood!_

Without hesitation, she poured some into one of the glasses and took it with her to the desk. Halfway through her homework, she was feeling pleasantly intoxicated. Long before any of it was finished, she drank the rest of the bourbon and headed to bed.

~ ~ ~

The fire had burned down to a red glow, leaving the room dark and warm. The little furry ball of Latimer had been curled up at Carine’s left ear, but when he moved, scuttling off the bed, she woke. Grumbling, she stuffed a pillow further under her face and closed her eyes again.

Then a soft sound caught her attention and she raised her head up a little. “Latimer, don’t start,” she complained, “I’m trying to sleep.” Before she laid her head down again, that same feeling of being watched intruded. It happened on and off, inexplicably, ever since the year had begun. She sat up abruptly to look around the room and gasped when she saw a large dark shape limned in red light at the foot of her bed.

A familiar baritone spoke one word of magic. “Lumos.”

Carine stared as Professor Snape slowly smiled. “My apologies for waiting so long to visit, Miss Lachlan, but we’ve both been busy.”

“Professor,” she whispered, only partly relieved. He wasn’t a ghost or an intruder – in the conventional sense – but his entrance had been unnecessarily spooky.

He only said one word in reply. “Nox.”

When he moved out of the red fireplace glow, he became almost invisible.

Carine heard a series of minute rustling sounds and the quiet tap of wood on wood. “Professor Snape?” she called out.

Her heart was still hammering from the fright he’d given her and his silence wasn’t helping. She didn’t know where he was until his fingers touched her lips, making her startle – but the admonition was clear.

He moved away for a moment, and then his weight came down beside her, under the blankets, and his bare skin was a shock on the silk sheets. Carine almost swallowed her tongue.

_You wanted this, idiot. Now you’ve got it. Deal! Don’t mess it up!_

She wondered what she should do, but then he took over, pressing her onto her back, his hand on her thigh. Her breath quickened as he moved over her, lying between her legs. Then his body pressed down over hers and his mouth found her lips.

The kiss was searing, and in an instant she knew she was about to forget every paltry male she’d ever lain with. She brought her hands up to touch him but he caught them in the dark and held them, not too gently, on either side of her head.

Carine’s thoughts spun out of control. She was used to doing things, talking, making jokes. Tease and play, then sex, then more jokes. The silence of this, blind in the dark with his body controlling everything and not a word spoken? Her earlier fright attempted to regain hold of her emotions.

_‘If you like it rough’, Rowan said. Oh my God! Is he going to hurt me?_ When he broke off the kiss, she struggled to speak. “Sir, please … say something…”

“Hush,” he whispered.

He didn’t speak again.

*******************************  
**Severus**  
*******************************

_Prima Nocte,_ Severus thought, smiling in the darkness. _First night._ The time to explore, discover – what she possessed, could offer, would or wouldn’t do naturally. _In so many ways, this is always the best of it._ Later, when his need was sated, he might allow her to ask questions. They always wanted to ask endless questions. _Or perhaps I should wait, let her endure this in silence, and then wonder when I will be here again? She is afraid now. Good._

He would not allow her to touch him and after a few lightning fast restraints, she stopped trying to. With her hands held over her head, she became as still as she could, allowing him to move her body as he liked. Allowing him to take her as he liked, too, with a compliance that, though somewhat hesitant, heralded a general willingness to give him whatever he wanted.

Yet he didn’t wish to spoil it by trying too much at once. Leaving her on her back, he gave up exploratory pretense and satisfied himself – quickly but not harshly.

She cried out more than once but remembered not to speak. To reward her, he made more of an effort to allow her to enjoy it.

Stifling his own cry against her slick and heated skin, he moved away from her as soon as he was able. Throwing on his black clothing with practiced ease in the dark, he picked up his wand from the dresser and left the way he’d arrived, his bare feet stepping without a sound.

~ ~ ~

On Friday, his new pet seemed subdued in class. No doubt his habit of behaving in public as if nothing had happened was as daunting to Lachlan as it had been to her predecessors. They stumbled to do the same but somehow always failed.

After class, on his way to the Great Hall, he saw her friend, Galen, coming down the stairs from the second floor. The two girls met, embraced, and he heard the brunette ask what was wrong.

_That could be a problem. Confide in a Slytherin friend if you must. For this Ravenclaw, make up whatever you like. The truth is not yours to give._

As for Galen, he was almost grateful she was a Ravenclaw, otherwise the choice between them might have proven difficult. She watched him now and then, too, after leaving Lachlan at the Slytherin table. What was she thinking?

_Perhaps it would be prudent to arrange a meeting with this one. She can’t possibly know Occlumency, and I can determine for certain if she’s going to be a problem. For now, Miss Lachlan and I have the weekend._


	4. Evil Plots

*******************************  
**Arelia**  
*******************************

Defense Against the Dark Arts, shared with the Slytherins, ought to prove interesting this year. The normal teacher, Quirrell, had taken the year off to travel to the Black Forest and acquire some hands-on experience combating the Dark Arts. That was the rumor among the Ravenclaws, at least, most of whom were happy he was absent. His substitute was a woman, Angelique Falchion – who had attended Hogwarts, was a Ravenclaw, and already had experience battling the Dark Arts.

Arelia sat in the Great Hall at breakfast and stirred her coffee as she watched a few students dart between the tables, whispering.

In fine Hogwarts tradition, the rumor mill had tried to dig up either juice or dirt on the newest member of the staff but so far, the only credible rumor about her was that she had just gotten married and intended to give up teaching when Quirrell returned. Yet she had been Head Girl in her seventh year, had spent some years as an Auror at the Ministry, and was generally considered one of the most talented students the school had ever produced.

These were credentials enough for Arelia, although her male peers tended to add that the woman was gorgeous and that it was too bad she was married. Carine had told Arelia that the Slytherin boys were in a flurry over her, too. They’d given up trying to invent slander quickly enough, anyway.

Carine had delivered this news without her usual delight in fresh gossip, though. Arelia had tried to find out what might be bothering her, but the feisty blonde remained uncharacteristically quiet in the first week of school. She hadn’t even tried to spend time with her over the weekend, even to further the ends of her current evil plot to transform Arelia into a sexual butterfly newly out of her bookworm cocoon.

As it was, she felt unfinished. The new hairstyle and clothes remade her appearance, but she had never been able to adopt or mimic Carine’s feminine whiles, let alone her casual sensuality and confidence.

_I’ve been too sheltered, I guess – but I wanted to be. Books were more useful than boyfriends and knowledge more alluring than love._ She smiled. _Good thing. I’m going to be swamped with knowledge this year._

Her schedule wasn’t that grueling but the classes were the toughest Hogwarts could throw at her. Defense Against the Dark Arts on Monday, after Potions. Transfiguration and History of Magic on Tuesday, Ancient Runes and Herbology on Wednesday, Care of Magical Creatures and Charms on Thursday, and wrapping up with Arithmancy and Astrology on Friday. Not much room for becoming a wanton temptress in that line-up.

Carine’s blunt advice since fifth year, ‘Just do it, already’, echoed. Yet it was easier, and less intimidating, to listen to her friend’s exploits than to initiate her own. The tales were entertaining, too. Carine had claimed to lay siege to the privacy curtains of the upperclassmen in her house since she was fifteen, and she never seemed to bother with such pleasantries as dating.

_I don’t think I can do that. _She sighed. _I don’t really want a steady, though. What’s the middle ground? Carine would have made a joke about Snape being fertile middle ground. What’s gotten her so down, and why won’t she talk to me?_

Arelia glanced over at the Slytherin table. Carine was there but she still seemed out of sorts.

The newly appointed Head Boy Beldon stopped beside her and asked, “What’s wrong with your pet Slytherin?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

She glared up at him. “What did you hear?”

“That she’s got her hands full this year, worse than usual. The Slytherin grunts seem to be out to claim her affections exclusively.”

“What on earth does that mean?”

“You didn’t know they were putting the squeeze on any other guy who’s ever gone sniffing after her? Two of the brutes punched Kenneth down behind the greenhouses just last night. You’d have heard about it if you ever hung out in the common room, instead of the library. If you’re her friend, why don’t you ask her to call off her dogs?”

“I doubt if she asked them to beat up Kenneth. She liked him.”

“Operative word: liked. As in doesn’t anymore. Would you just ask her to call them off? It’s hard enough to keep the peace around here without the annual Slytherin brute squad displays. If I have to ask her, it’ll cost her house a lot of points.”

Arelia smiled, part charming, and part a threat. “I’ll ask. No problem. But I wouldn’t worry, Beldon. You probably aren’t next for a rough up. She wasn’t impressed enough with you to bother.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you could be implying,” he replied, his chin rising.

“I’m her friend, remember? She tells me all about her trysts – grades them, too.” She winked at him, finished her coffee, and left him gaping like a hooked fish.

Arelia hadn’t seen Kenneth at breakfast or she would have asked him if the story was true. She went to speak to Carine before heading to Potions. The blonde was just standing up, so they walked out into the entrance hall together in silence. She couldn’t help but notice that most of the boys at Carine’s table watched them go with more interest than usual.

“Don’t start asking me endless crap about your precious Kenneth,” Carine said. She spoke quietly but her tone was acidic. “I didn’t sick the goons on him.”

“He might be a Ravenclaw, but he was your precious Kenneth. You gave him an O for outstanding, as I recall, and rhapsodized for weeks about how he made the models in the Astronomy tower ring.” Arelia steered her over to one side of the hall, away from the trickling stream of students exiting from breakfast. “What is it? Is one of those Neanderthals staking you out as his, like it or not?”

The emerald eyes darted back and forth before she would look at her again. “Yes,” she whispered. “It’s Marcus, but it’s okay – I want to be with him.”

“Decker Marcus? The infamous prefect, the Hound of Hell? Carine, come on – how many times have you told me you wouldn’t stoop to let him kiss your boot?”

“I changed my mind.”

“Carine…”

“I have to get to Transfiguration. That Gryffindor harridan has it in for me already.”

“So does Sir Beldon. He wanted me to ask you to call off your dogs.”

“Tell him where to stick it for me, would you? In case he can’t remember?”

Arelia stared after her. _What the hell is the problem? She can’t just ignore Marcus since we were all eleven and then suddenly fall in love with the reprobate? _Sighing, she turned to head down to the dungeons. _Maybe I could speak to Professor Snape about it? He is her Head of House. If he can’t make those fools behave, no one can. Question is, will he care if they’re beating up Ravenclaw Seekers?_

She frowned as she entered the Potions classroom. Snape’s habit of letting his house do whatever they liked was legendary.

As it happened, she was so preoccupied between Carine’s attitude and the heavy demands of a N.E.W.T. level Potions class, she didn’t even notice that her ersatz Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain had chosen a seat next to her since the first class.

*******************************  
**Carine**  
*******************************

“Leave him alone, Hayden!” Carine yelled, fingers pale in a hard grip on her book bag.

A door opened beside her and her hulking housemate, and McGonagall frowned at them both. “Your next class is about to begin. Please head there and stop disrupting mine.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hayden said, sketching a mock bow.

Carine whirled and walked away. The head of the unofficial Slytherin brute squad stalked after her.

“Ruddy Seeker had it coming,” he muttered in her wake.

“Kenneth didn’t do anything. He was saying hello, not asking me out.”

“Saying hello can lead a lot of places. The Astronomy tower, under the bleachers in the Quidditch field … did I forget one?”

Carine stopped and faced him, hugging the book bag to her chest. “Please Hayden – does it have to be settled with fists? I know – where I stand … and with whom. I’m not out to cheat the system. Please call them off.”

The massive boy with the straggling blond hair smirked. “Wow. Please. Too bad you’re off the menu, Lachlan, I could let you convince me to be nice to your boyfriend.”

She bridled at that. “I bet this trick goes both ways, you bastard. You might want to think about that before you tick off the new Tutor. Snape wouldn’t want me distracted by such petty concerns, would he?” For the first time in a week, she felt her old grin spreading impulsively over her face as the fool paled at her threat. Whether or not it really did work that way, he obviously believed it might.

They trooped into their Double D.A.D.A. class just ahead of the bell. Carine took her seat next to Arelia and gave the girl a slight smile.

“Carine, I’m sorry if I upset you earlier,” she whispered.

Touching her friend’s shoulder, Carine shook her head. “You didn’t, and I’m sorry for shutting you out. It’s just – some problems are Slytherin issues and I can’t discuss them, but I think I got Hayden off Kenneth’s back.”

“Thank you.” Arelia smiled. “I couldn’t wait to tell you, so you could gloat and tease me – Snape set up a meeting with me for the end of the day. He said it was about class, but I don’t see why he’d need to talk to me about that.”

“Oh,” she replied, forgetting to sound intrigued. As Arelia watched her with concern, she added, “Will you have time to change before you see him?”

“I guess, why?”

“Meet me before the last class. I need to discuss a brand new evil plot, and we can work in an appropriate outfit for your rendezvous, too.”

Arelia was about to reply when Professor Falchion entered and called the class to order. Carine watched her as eagerly as the rest in spite of herself. If anything Arelia had said about the woman was true, she was more than a pretty face.

_Maybe she’ll teach us some spells that blast idiot Slytherin giants into ash? McGonagall wasn’t any help. She acted as if transfiguring Hayden into an umbrella stand would be a bad thing._

~ ~ ~

The girls met in the courtyard and sat on a bench in front of the fountain. Carine took Arelia’s hands in hers and grinned her habitual wicked grin.

“Here’s the plot. We make a bet: first one to make Snape fall in love with her, and then break his heart, wins.”

“You are barking mad. I can’t even dignify that with honest shock.”

“I’m serious.”

“You’re crazy! Have you forgotten that we both take his class? Even leaving out the idea that he’s a teacher, toying with the man isn’t a great plan if you want to get high marks on your Potions N.E.W.T.!”

“You always bring up the teacher angle. Yeah, we’d have to keep it under wraps, but we’re eighteen, it’s not like they can drag him off to Azkaban for it. Haven’t you progressed to imagining him with you deep in the lonely nights?” When Arelia blushed and stared at her, she pounced. “I knew it! Arelia, listen. You don’t know him like I do. He’s not worth throwing your heart at, but you would be the best bait in the world for my plot. Look at how he stares at you – and now a private meeting?”

“He didn’t say it was private.”

“The man isn’t famous for public ones – especially with gorgeous females.”

“I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to play with him, not like that. We may as well go poke a Norwegian Ridgeback with a pointy stick.”

Carine smiled. “Appropriate choice. Here be dragons. That adventure you claimed to want doesn’t begin until you walk off the edge of the map.”

“Have you forgotten ‘Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus’?”

“We’re not going to tickle him. We’re going to reel him in and gaff him.”

“Mixing metaphors for effect isn’t going to convince me. Why are you suddenly out to get him?”

“I’m not!” Carine rearranged her expression into one of pure mischief. “I want to leave school with a bang. I always have, you know that. He’d love it, too. I doubt if we’d actually get anywhere, with the gaffing part, but aren’t you always saying it’s good to have long-range goals?”

“About our future. If we make that man seriously angry, we might not have one.”

“Please. He can’t really hurt us.”

“He can hurt our grades.”

“Look,” she said, pouring all of her skill at persuasion into her voice and eyes, “he won’t be angry. He likes sex, you know. It doesn’t tend to make him mad.”

“So you think we should both, for the total hell of it, just start sleeping with the man?”

“Still trying to pretend you don’t want to?”

“That’s not the point. It’s stupid to try and hurt him.”

“What if you just take him on first, and then see if you’re inclined to try my bet after?”

“You seem to have faith in his ability to inspire vengeance.”

Carine shrugged and smiled. “Maybe I’m just trying to get you to toss off that stubborn virginity.”

“And is Snape really a wise choice for that? I’d want someone –”

“Nice. Spare me. Nice is fine if you want a boyfriend. You don’t. What’s next on the agenda? Experience life. Go crazy. Have some deviant fun. Your speech, am I right? So are you all talk?”

“No!” She looked around, startled, and lowered her voice. “No. I’m just – a little afraid of him.”

“You can’t argue he’s the perfect man for the job, though: older, experienced, rumored to be damn good, and not going to tie strings on you afterward.”

Ticking points off on fingers, Arelia added, “Vicious, cruel, moody, unpleasant, and incapable of kindness.”

“Kindness makes a lousy lover. The real adepts are not the boys next door.”

Arelia fidgeted. “I can’t get him out of my head. I can’t even get interested in – you know – unless I think of him.”

Carine grinned. “You’ve been too long at flying practice. A real Quidditch match is a lot more fun.” Her fingers pressed Arelia’s gently. “So – what do you think?”

“Okay. I’ll go for the – Quidditch – but I’m not agreeing to the gaffing thing.”

“Fine, no problem. Now let’s discuss your outfit for this initial foray.”

“Foray?”

“Well you don’t expect him to just jump you the minute you walk in, do you? You’ll have to work at it a little. Make him want to. For that, the proper outfit is vital.”

“God help me,” Arelia whispered and smiled. “I’m all yours. Teach me your wisdom.”

_All that and more, my girl._ Carine smiled sweetly back as she began to discuss clothes. _Give it time. You’ll take my bet. I do have faith in him for that._

*******************************  
**Severus**  
*******************************

“Posturing to prove you still possess power in this arrangement is really not necessary. It’s also a waste of time. My time.” Severus frowned at the girl as he settled more deeply into the mound of pillows against the headboard. “Come back to bed, Miss Lachlan.”

“Won’t you answer my question?” She seemed to consciously make her body drop its defiant stance and assume a more alluring pose. “Hayden importuned me himself. Are you going to let him get away with it?”

“I might. You shouldn’t be discussing the matter at all. Not with him, and not with willowy princesses, either.”

“I haven’t told Arelia about us.”

“‘Us’,” he sneered. “Let me instruct you a moment on the usage of that word. It doesn’t exist. Not in this room. Now – come – here.”

She moved to his side like a petulant child, which was a charming look on her pouting coral lips. He watched her slim but amply endowed body, just slightly tanned, with the evaluating expression of any surveyor of fine things.

_The glint in her eye does not detract, however. I do enjoy her perverse stubborn nature. After all, who wants a hippogriff anyone could ride?_

“I just hoped you might bring him down a peg or two,” she wheedled, apparently not willing to give up.

Severus smiled. “Earn it.”

Her face melted into a new expression of ravenous desire as she reached for him and bent her head down. A true changeling, she could appear however she wished to, regardless of what his Legilimency told him she was feeling. It was the most fascinating aspect of her personality, and probably quite effective at fooling others in whatever way she wished.

Control honed over years of lecherous experience, he didn’t thrust and choke her like some eager boy. His passion was too cool for that. It was up to her to coax jaded flesh to respond. He relaxed into her attentions until she finally did inspire true lust to wind his muscles up tight again.

_Like any well-rounded witch, her talents aren’t limited to her changeling powers, I see._

Yet his body was not engaged enough to loose true passion, sparked by the mind being engulfed along with the flesh. Soundless and almost motionless, he observed her as she swallowed what she had prized out of him.

Staring up at him, worldly mask shattered to reveal a vulnerable worry, she blushed as she licked a few drops from her lips – clearly nervous under his silent scrutiny.

More or less replete for a time and satisfied with her performance, he gave her a thin smile._ It is sufficient._ Finally relenting, he wondered alond, “What shall I do to this persecutor of yours?”

As he allowed her to curl up against him under the warm blankets, she smiled. “Could you just tell him – and the others – that deterring the boys doesn’t need to involve violence? Intimidation is still an option.”

“No boils? No ‘death by a thousand cuts’? Intimidation alone is rarely respected if it is known to be hamstrung by fair play.”

“I don’t want to hurt them, but they don’t need to hurt those boys, either. I’m not – like that.”

“Ah, but you think I am.”

“No, sir, I don’t. I don’t presume to make judgments about you.”

“So, you’re a Slytherin after all. I had begun to worry. That’s a fine lie, Miss Lachlan.” She was silent, not rising to his bait. “Very well, I shall make them cease the violent aspects of their traditional function – though some before you relished that part of it almost exclusively – at times, inciting it.”

Lachlan fell silent until the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire. He closed his eyes and allowed sleep to take him for a while. It was more rest than he’d managed in the last few days.

~ ~ ~

When she sifted to roll against him, he woke. The fire had died down a little. Looking at her, he found her watching him – not unlike a mongoose pup tracks a snake it has no hope of killing.

Whatever her agenda was, he couldn’t muster enough curiosity in that moment to care about it.

“You amaze me,” she whispered against his shoulder as her fingers trailed down his arm. She looked away from his stare demurely, feining innocent wonder.

Reading her with relative ease, he schooled a cruel smirk into a lascivious smile before she lifted her head to see it. “I’m sure I do,” he remarked, low voice laced with sarcasm. “Yet I doubt if your current aims are carnal in nature.”

“Could I ask you about something else, sir?”

“If it’s the last thing.”

“What do you think of Arelia Galen?”

“An unparalleled talent. Star of the crown of avian magical ability. Why?”

She frowned at his sarcasm and attendant smirk. “That’s not what I meant. What do you think she’s like?”

“Prudish? Eternally wed to musty books … and somewhat confused. I ask again, and I won’t repeat it. Why?”

“Because she wants you. I promised to ask your opinion of her. Why do you think she’s confused?”

“Her recent peacock display of inept interest lacked that true Slytherin charm. You aren’t imparting your best teachings, Miss Lachlan. Also, she is hopelessly – what’s the word? Oh yes – Ravenclaw.”

“Does it matter that much?”

“A great deal; a fact which you seem challenged to grasp.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I just want to help my friend. She’s sort of had a crush on you forever, and I’m not jealous – we share most things already anyway.”

“Jealousy wouldn’t be prudent.” He frowned. “Neither would indulging with someone not of my own house.”

“It’s not a problem about keeping things quiet. She’s smart enough for that.” She winked when he started to negate that, and added, “She’s also a virgin. I’ve tried to tell her to just pick a boy and jump … but she’s stuck on you.”

“Therefore you thought, with your friendly generosity, to teach her how to play dress up?” His frown melted into another smirk. “Try teaching her to hide her fear alongside lessons in sporting traditional seducer uniforms.”

“Noted. I’ll work on that next.”

Severus placed a finger under her chin and turned her face up to his. His lips covered hers and he used his long years of skill to bring a heated flush to her cheeks with his kiss. When he stopped it, she tried to keep it going but he leaned back away from her. Was the frustrated desire in her eyes real or constructed?

“Whatever your game is,” he whispered, “I will figure it out eventually. In the meantime, do not forget the rules of mine, which you freely chose to play. Your mind should pursue your studies, but your body is mine until you leave this school.”

“But all I –”

“All I require,” he continued, with his finger pressed against her lips, “is your silence about these matters and your acquiescence to my needs. Not scurrilous attempts at inter-house matchmaking, for whatever purpose. In return for these concessions, you have privacy, an elevated status among your housemates, free reign to do as you like without fear of reprimand in other pursuits and, apparently, the privilege of threatening whomever you please with my infamous wrath. Is all of that clear?”

The moment he removed his finger, her head bowed.

“Yes, sir.”

“Should you wish to relinquish your post, I shall have it filled by one of the disappointed hopefuls and your current status will revert to what it was.”

The girl’s face paled as it lifted and she again stared foolishly into his eyes. “No, sir. I’m … I want this.”

“Then endeavor to convince me that is true.”

He moved abruptly and smoothly over her, pressing her beneath his weight. She almost didn’t respond properly quickly enough to suit him, but when she did, he entered her again without concern for her readiness to receive him.

Keeping his efforts languid and gentle in spite of that, he watched her instinctive resistance melt from her snapping eyes and tense body. Malleable at last, she began moving with his rhythm. For the first time, he allowed her hands to touch his body during the act of sex.

His smile was calculating, as her fevered caresses told more about her responses to him than any sounds she made, honest or contrived. When she sought his mouth, he gave it as fingers stroked the tremors his kiss produced in her supple flesh.

_And so, again, she falls. The faces change, the ultimate capitulation remains. Whether she takes the path of hate or love from this moment, she is mine. No matter the face, the name, she is mine._

Yet in the midst of his climax, and the drifting haze that followed, a disturbing restlessness surfaced. He didn’t know when the old game had begun to stagnate, but the truth was getting harder to ignore. For a moment, an old black despair threatened. He pushed it away, feeling his anger rise.

“Miss Lachlan,” he whispered, aware that his tone was almost a hiss, “perhaps you should invite your peacock friend to our first Quidditch match. After all, she drank to our victory. She ought to see it come to pass.”

“Yes, sir – I can talk to her at the Halloween Feast. Everyone is so crazy busy then, no one will notice if we’re hanging out and whispering. Um, sir,” she asked in a softer tone, unnerved by his silence, “can I say that you want to see her there? She might not come otherwise. I never get her out to see the games.”

Severus gave her a thin, taut smile. “By all means, warn the prey that the hunt is on. It’s only sporting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having checked a Hogwarts wiki, I discovered that the first Quidditch game of the school year is early in November, after Halloween. I’ve made a few edits to incorporate that fact. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic) (anongrimm.tumblr.com)


	5. Quidditch

*******************************  
**Arelia**  
*******************************

“Of course he will, he never misses a game,” Carine said, speaking quietly to avoid being overheard. “So it won’t be a waste of your time. You can gawk at him to your heart’s content.”

“I don’t gawk. Anyway, it’s your evil plot, not mine.” Arelia watched as she picked at her food. The other Slytherins didn’t try to hide their resentment of her invasion of their table. The girl she had sat next to in order to speak with Carine had moved down the table with an arrogant sniff. Arelia ignored them all.

“So will you come?” Carine asked again.

“If I’m going to watch a game, shouldn’t I do it with my own housemates?”

“They aren’t playing; if they were, it’d be different. Besides, you can’t cheer for Gryffindor – I’d have to disown you.” The ghost of the sly smile brightened her face.

“Fine, I’ll come. You’re sure Snape will be there?”

“He will, I promise you that.” She winked. “He asked me if you were coming.”

“Why?”

Carine sighed. “Give my genius some credit. Obviously, your calculated to impress outfit did its job.”

Arelia’s eyes glanced quickly at the head table and away again. Snape was paying more attention to her than to his breakfast. She hoped she wasn’t blushing. “So what do I wear to this silly display of hormonal angst on brooms?”

“Something sexy enough to get noticed but not too revealing – a man likes to unwrap his goodies himself, after all.” As she led the way out of the Great Hall, Carine told her exactly what to wear. “I’ll meet you in the courtyard in half an hour. Wear your make-up like I taught you, too.”

“I will – I don’t see the point of that war paint, but I will.”

They parted company in the entrance hall. Arelia dressed to Carine’s specs and then felt so self-conscious in the clothes, she was almost afraid to go and meet her.

The faded jeans were uncomfortably tight. She’d have marks on her skin for a week. The heavy cornflower blue sweater was cropped short and exposed her navel. Black boots with just a hint of heel, and the make-up, completed the look. She almost didn’t recognize herself in the mirror. Forbidden to wear a coat despite the early November chill, she left the tower with a knot coiling in her stomach.

Carine wore a black wool pipe skirt with a v-neck hunter green sweater. Her knee boots had four-inch heels.

“I hope you don’t break an ankle in those stilts,” Arelia said in greeting.

“I’ve had lots of practice. Come on, before all the good seats are gone.”

Carine led her out to the Quidditch field. When they went up the steps and entered the bleachers on the Slytherin side, she was surprised to discover that she wasn’t the only non-Slytherin there. There were a few Hufflepuffs, in spite of the fact that most of them were on Gryffindor’s side. The real shock was how many of her own house were there. Even Beldon, though he was careful to keep away from Hayden and his goons.

“Why didn’t you tell me they’d be over here?”

“Who? Your house? Of course they’re here. If Gryffindor wins, they have to play against them next. They seem to feel we’d be easier to beat, so they’re lending a cheer. Sweet of them, really.” Her voice dripped poisoned honey as she glared at several Ravenclaws.

She darted forward and Arelia hurried to follow. They stopped in front of a row of Slytherin fifth years, all of whom abruptly looked uncomfortable.

“Thanks for saving our seats.” Carine beamed her perfect smile at them.

“We can sit over there,” Arelia said, but to her surprise, the fifth years got up. They almost seemed afraid of the blonde. “Okay, you obviously know something about throwing your prefect weight around that I don’t. What’s the secret?”

“Don’t be silly.”

“Why make them move? What’s so special about this spot?”

“Look up.”

Arelia frowned. At first she thought Carine meant out over the field. Then the smirking blonde gestured over their heads with her thumb. Turning in her seat, she looked up. One of the box seat sections reserved for teachers and guests loomed over them. Startling when she saw Snape staring down at her, she faced the field again with heat rising in her cheeks.

“You know, I might have screwed up,” Carine said with a wicked grin. “We should have dressed you in something low cut. I bet the view is fantastic from up there.”

~ ~ ~

The game was a blur. Arelia was trying too hard to watch everything at once, just to avoid looking up.

“I didn’t know you were a fan,” a voice from her left said. She turned her head and saw her nameless Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain sitting down next to her. “Do you mind if I join you?”

Carine leaned forward and frowned around her to reply, “Yes, we mind. Girl talk.”

“Don’t be rude,” Arelia told her. “Go ahead.”

“So – you like the sport? I’ve never seen you come out to watch before.”

“I’m here under partial duress.”

“Oh. Do you understand the game? I mean, if you wanted to, and didn’t … I could explain.”

Arelia smiled at Carine’s exasperated sigh. “No, I understand the rules. Not the point – but the rules, yes.”

“The point is fun – competition, adrenaline – fighting for a goal. Hell, sometimes survival if you ignore a runaway Bludger. All the good gritty stuff you need to succeed in life.”

“Yes,” Carine retorted under her breath, “so the weeds don’t get the better of you in the garden back on the farm.”

Hoping he hadn’t heard her, Arelia smiled. “I get my adrenaline climbing.”

“Cliffs?” He looked pleasantly surprised.

“No, shelves – the restricted section in the library; they always put the best stuff way over my head.”

He laughed. “Most of that stuff is over my head. I’m hoping to get picked up by a national team. Playing professionally – that would be the best. Do you fly?”

“Yes, but I’m much happier Apparating. I can’t really get into brooms. They just remind me of chores back home. I’m from a Muggle family,” she added at his quizzical look.

“Yeah, I knew that. Just didn’t get the reference.”

Carine was looking up. “Arelia, come on!”

“What?”

“It’s E.P. time, let’s move!” The blonde stood and tugged at her hand.

“I guess I’m going. It was nice talking with you.”

“I’ll be here. Or, I’ll see you in Potions.”

“Come on!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” She allowed Carine to haul her away toward the stairs. “What’s the rush?”

They were halfway down when Carine stopped. “No, not down, go through there.”

“That’s not a passage. It’s a catwalk.”

Carine passed her and stepped through the opening into the dim space under the bleachers. “This is a favorite Slytherin hidey-hole,” she explained, her voice drifting away as she went further in. “Come on.”

“Are you going to tell me why we’re creeping around under the bleachers?” An abrupt and shocking stomping roar overhead shook the structure all around them, making her gasp.

“To show you this – just in case he asks you.” She ducked out of sight into a right turn.

“Show me what?”

Down a short sidetrack, she stopped. Carine stood in front of an alcove in the crisscrossing weave of wooden beams. Someone had put a couch in the cramped space.

“I hope that was conjured there.” Staring at the wide and likely soft brown crushed corduroy furniture, she added, “I don’t think Snape is the grope-under-the-bleachers type.”

“Yeah, well, I am.” Grinning, she went in and sat on the couch. “And don’t assume he’s a fastidious gent, either. Nice thing about this is, you can sneak out here anytime. If there isn’t a game on, it’s the safest nook in the world. When there is a game on, you can pretend the cheers are for your performance.”

“Naturally.” Arelia ventured in and sat. “So what now? Should we go back up and be scenery? He can’t see us down here.”

“Not if you’re going to start chatting up Farmer Hufflepuff again.”

“It was fun seeing you squirm. You don’t really think Snape is going to ask me out to a friendly under-bleacher date, do you? I was hoping for something a little more scenic – and considerably less course.”

“You never know. I just wanted you to know it was here.”

“Well I do prefer this to watching that silly game.” She turned to face her friend. “How about if we discuss this Decker Marcus problem?”

“I can’t talk about that.”

“Why not? Slytherin secrets hell, Carine, I’m worried about you!”

“I know. I’m sorry I scared you, but I got it sorted out now, okay?”

“You can’t tell me you suddenly like the pompous ass.”

“No, I don’t. It’s – complicated. And I’ve just gotten my good mood back, so let’s not drag all that up. Anyway, it’s not so bad.” She stood up. “We should get back. You can even talk to What’s-his-name if you want to.”

“I really should ask his name, I guess.”

“You should. You’ll need it for the Dear John letter you’ll be writing after you land Snape and give up on little boys.”

“I do admire your ability to stay on topic. You’re like a blonde pit bull – and points for Muggle Studies terminology inclusion.”

The second they got back into the bleachers, Marcus descended. “We need to talk, Lachlan.”

Carine seemed about to protest until they both saw Hayden coming, flanked by the brute squad. “I’ll talk to you,” she said, “if they stay here.”

“Fine.”

“Carine, wait –”

“It’s okay. I’ll be back. Wait here for me?”

They were gone before Arelia could say anything. She started to follow, but Hayden stood in her way. “I bet I know a lot more hexes than you do. You might want to move.”

“It’s Slytherin business, Galen.”

A cold voice interrupted them. “Is there a problem here?”

“No, sir,” Hayden said, straightening.

“Good,” Snape replied. “Why don’t you go cheer on the team, then?”

“Yes, sir.” Cowed, they all trooped back to their seats.

“Miss Galen, if you have a moment, I would like to talk to you. Follow me, please.”

He went back down the stairs and she followed with her stomach knotting. When he stopped at the entrance to the catwalk, she froze on the steps above him. He noticed her glance and smiled.

“So she showed you the snake hole? Fear not – my intentions are far more banal.” When he moved on down to the ground and began walking away from the stairs, she hurried to catch up with him.

“I wanted to talk to you before, Professor, about Carine.”

Stopping on the lawn under the shadow of the stadium, he faced her. His arms, wrapped in cloak sleeves, crossed over his chest. “That is the matter I wanted to discuss with you. There is something you do not understand, and Miss Lachlan is not at liberty to enlighten you.”

“I understand just fine. Marcus seems to have those primitive troglodytes on thin leashes. Did you know they beat up my house’s Seeker because he was a former friend of hers?” Shocked at her tone, she tried to calm herself. “I’m worried about her, sir.”

“She isn’t involved with Marcus. She is in training to be a tutor, to help me with my classes. It is an unsanctioned post, however, and we keep it discrete. I hope I can trust you to do the same.”

“Tutor, sir? What does that have to do with Hayden’s terrorizing?”

“Nothing, probably. He’s not the brightest of my Slytherins, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. If their behavior distresses you, I will bring them to heel.”

“Yes,” she said, startled. “Thank you, sir. I wanted to ask you about it when you made that appointment to see me, but you didn’t give me much chance.”

He didn’t answer and she had no idea what else to say. From the field, another roar shook the air around them.

“I had a specific agenda in mind for that appointment,” he finally responded, “concerning your work in my class, but you could have brought it up after. Contrary to rumor, I am not an ogre. I will listen if you need to speak to me about something important. For now, we should return to the game.”

Relieved that he would stop Hayden and the others, she headed back up the stairs ahead of him.

“I probably shouldn’t comment, Miss Galen,” he said, “but I’ve noticed a change in you. I suspect my devious tutor is at the root of it, but I have to say it is an improvement.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, grateful he couldn’t see her face. Then she realized he was watching her body as she climbed the stairs and the blush darkened. She paused and heard him stop just a few steps behind her. “She’s my best friend. I appreciate you calling off the brute squad.”

He stepped up to stand directly behind her. “My pleasure,” the velvet voice whispered in her ear. “Is there anything else you’d like to ask of me?”

“Yes.” She turned and met his dark gaze, the extra stair making her his equal in height. “Would you tell me if Carine has any reason to be angry with you?”

“She is quite spoiled, Miss Galen, by myself and the rest of her house. If she is angry, she hasn’t said so to me. She did, however, mention your – interest. Should I assume she wasn’t serious?”

“No – she was. She claims you sometimes…”

“Hike up skirts?” He smiled when she stared. “I know all the stories. It’s hardly a shock to me.”

“Is it true?”

“Sometimes – if a young lady is of age and seeks me out … and if she is capable of discretion.”

“Someone wasn’t discrete or it wouldn’t be a rumor.”

He smiled. “It’s a Slytherin rumor. There is a difference.” The crowd filled the close space with deafening noise again. As it subsided, he added, “I don’t normally consider someone outside of my house … but you could be an exception.”

Arelia felt trapped between her desires and her fears. The excitement his closeness created in her was alarming and delicious at once. Before she could think about it, she was leaning in to kiss him. To her surprise, he stepped back.

“This is hardly the place for that.”

She saw where he was, standing just opposite the catwalk. Part of her still wanted to walk away, but she stepped down to pass him instead, slipping onto the catwalk. Her heart was pounding as she waited to hear if he would follow, but when he did, the fear only increased. Her feet wouldn’t stop. She walked to the couch, stood beside it, and turned to face him as he came up in her wake.

“I’m a little nervous,” she muttered, backing up as he advanced.

“You’re afraid. You needn’t be, yet this isn’t a good time. Miss Lachlan will be looking for you and the team is hopelessly superstitious about my presence in the stands. We should return.”

Arelia felt confused and relieved at once. “You don’t want to…?”

“Want is not the problem; I don’t wish to handle this crudely.”

He stepped up to her and lifted her chin with his fingertip. Bending his head down, he brushed his lips lightly over hers, soft as the touch of a moth’s wings. She melted, her thoughts numbing. When she opened her mouth, he allowed his tongue to explore her, but she made the kiss deepen. It stopped when he stepped away.

She opened her eyes and saw him holding out his hand to her. “Where?” She couldn’t think of what else to say.

“Back. If you wish, you may see me tonight. I will be in my office after nine. If I don’t see you by ten, I will leave you in peace.”

She let him lead her out. On the stairs, they parted. She entered the bleachers and he continued up the stairs to the box seats. Carine was sitting where they had been before but the Hufflepuff Captain was gone. Arelia sat beside her and watched the game in silence. Her friend put an arm across her shoulders.

“Encountered him, did you?” Carine whispered. “Did you like it?”

“He didn’t do anything but kiss me.”

“And?”

“I wanted him to do more.”

“So that’s it?”

“No. He said I could meet him tonight.”

*******************************  
**Carine**  
*******************************

“Arelia, that’s a good thing. Try not to look so shocked.”

They were still sitting in the bleachers long after the rest of the throng had headed back to the school. Slytherin had won but neither of them had paid attention to the end of the game.

“I was really expecting him to be a beast, that’s all.”

“I hope that’s not a complaint.”

“No. It’s just – surprising.”

“Obviously. Okay, here’s the plan. Go fetch that maroon blouse, the silk one, and the gathered black skirt. These boots will be fine. And that white lace bra and panty set. Meet me in the prefect’s bathroom and I’ll play moral support.”

~ ~ ~

Arelia was in the tub when she arrived. Carine heard her slide the bolt with magic. She opened the door and locked it again behind her.

“I filched us some grub from the kitchens,” she said, setting a neatly packed basket a house-elf had given her on the floor beside the pool. Tossing a folded towel down for a cushion, she sat and dug through the food.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were studying with him to be a tutor?” Arelia asked in a whisper.

“What?” She saw the serious concern on her friend’s face and gave up pretense. “He told you that?”

“Yes, but it hardly seems like something you couldn’t have told me yourself.”

“Did he say anything about it?”

“No. Why did you say Marcus was bothering you?”

“He was, and Hayden sort of freaked me out – but it’s stopped now.”

“Professor Snape already talked to them? He said he would.”

“I guess so. Okay, out, or you’ll be a prune.”

They had a picnic spread on a towel by the pool. Arelia sat on another towel cushion in her robe. For the first time since the start of school, they talked like they had the year before.

_I wish I could tell you everything._ Carine stifled a sigh. _You want this … or you think you do … and I said I’d help you but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m leading you into a patch of Devil’s Snare._

“He said he wasn’t an ogre, but I’ve heard you say he was – plus a ‘bloody bat’.”

Carine smiled, trying to push away her doubts. “Slytherins are often casually disrespectful – even about him … just not to his face. Most of them worship the man, though. Even if it’s only because he lets them get away with anything in class.”

“You don’t sound worshipful.”

“I want you to understand something. I’ve heard things, okay? He can be – demanding, even cruel. Remember Rowan?”

Arelia nodded, watching her closely.

“Well, I talked to her a lot last year. She fell in love with him. He wasn’t amused. Happy to take what she offered but senseless to her feelings.”

“This is a fine time to tell me all this. I seem to recall something about an evil plot?”

“I’m just saying – don’t fall for him. It’s sex. Get in and get out. Enjoy it, and then walk. No strings.”

“It’s attraction and mystery, not love. You can’t love someone you don’t know, and I’m not doodling ‘Mrs. Arelia Snape’ on my parchments. Don’t worry – I’ll be okay. I’ll be a nervous wreck, but I’ll be okay.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pull you along and then tell you horror stories. It’s not so bad, and the nerves go away after a while.”

“So are you planning on launching your own attack soon? I thought your evil plot involved a parallel effort.”

“Well, I’m in his house. It won’t be that hard for me to importune him. So I’m helping you launch yours. After all, this is inter-species breeding.” She grinned.

“Gee, that sounds appetizing.”

*******************************  
**Severus**  
*******************************

From nine until nine forty-eight, Severus graded papers at his desk. When the half hour mark had passed, he had assumed she wouldn’t show up – but if he got this stack of work finished, he could have an uninterrupted Sunday with his pet.

A few minutes before ten, someone knocked on the door. He watched the remaining dark sands in his iron hourglass run out before calling out a gruff order for the person to enter. Arelia Galen opened the door and stood there, the handle still in her hand.

“In or out, Miss Galen,” he said absently, going back to checking one of the last parchments.

She came in and shut the door. “May I sit?”

“Of course,” he replied, without looking up. “I’ll only be a moment.” He lingered over the last sheet to see if she would fidget in her chair. When she did, he set the stack aside and regarded her coolly. “Two minutes to spare. You must not think highly of my rumored talents. Or,” he added, “you’ve changed your mind but still want to speak to me.”

“I haven’t changed my mind.”

He smiled. He knew she hadn’t meant her answer to imply that the first option was the truth, but the blush that rose on her pale cheeks when she realized the faux pas was charming.

“I’ve already broached the subject that I normally keep this sort of meeting between Slytherins, yet it bears repeating.”

“I can be as discrete as you like.”

“What exactly are you seeking?”

“What? You know…”

“Sex?” When she nodded, he added, “I should think if you are going to engage in something, you ought to be able to say the word.” He leaned back in his chair, drew his wand, and began flipping it deftly between the fingers of his right hand. “Miss Lachlan said you were inexperienced. So let me rephrase the question. What sort of experience do you want?”

“I – wasn’t expecting a pop quiz, sir.”

“Allow me to answer for you, then. You want sex – preferably pleasant, perhaps even romantic?” His fingers still toyed with his wand. _Look at me._ _Show me._ She raised her eyes to his. _Legilimens._ Images flowed out to him from her thoughts, her memories. _So it’s that, and that. Yes…_

“I don’t need romance.”

Severus stood and watched her shift nervously in the chair before she rose. “Come along to my chambers, Miss Galen. I think you’ll be much more comfortable there.”

“Once there, you’ll make some effort to be a gentleman?”

“Certainly.” He stood by the closed door. When she didn’t move, he added, “Do you wish assurances?”

“You’re a little – inconsistent. This afternoon…”

“I see – and this evening you find my attitude cynical and abrupt?”

“I was going to say crass and rude, but yes.”

He noted the slight tremble of her fingers. The dichotomy of her sexual fear and verbal assertiveness was intriguing. If she hadn’t literally waited until the last minute, souring his mood with impatience, it might have been simpler to keep the alluring pretense of that afternoon intact. Yet if he wished to convince her, let alone put her at ease, he would have to set aside his irritation and resume the other approach again.

_I hope the charade is worth it._ “Miss Lachlan has no doubt warned you that I can be … what is the most common phrase? A ‘moody bastard’. As I am self-aware enough to know it’s true, I will apologize. This has been a trying day, I’m afraid, with the exception of our brief talk. I spent most of it after our victory in the hospital wing seeing to three separate players. That is not an excuse, but it is a reason, for the erosion of my manners.”

“Thank you and I’m sorry, too – I forgot about those boys getting hurt. I was talking to Carine more than watching the game. Will they be all right?”

“Yes. They were all seventh years and seasoned flyers, but the hunt for victory can blind them to other aspects of the sport – such as Bludgers, enemy Beaters, and of course, the ground. Garland’s broom was the only casualty.” He held his hand out to her.

She stepped forward and took it. “Garland. He’s the one with the flat face, isn’t he? I hope that’s not from repeats of his injury today.”

“No,” he said, smiling. “He managed to break the nose prior to his first year and his idiot Muggle parents didn’t get it treated properly.” Severus watched her blink at him, watched her decide not to be offended by his insult to Muggles. “Yet if the fool doesn’t learn to pull up faster, he’ll save them burial expenses some day.” He raised her hand to his lips and gave her fingers a feathery kiss. “Shall we?”

“Professor, I want to be clear – if I feel uncomfortable at any point –”

“It is therefore my intention to make you as comfortable as I can, Miss Galen.”

He led her out of the office and down the hall. The only person they saw on the way was the Bloody Baron, but the Slytherin ghost already knew all of his secrets.

_Enjoy your peace tonight, Miss Lachlan. _He arched an eyebrow as they passed the hidden door of the common room. _Though I wonder at your motives in this; what do you gain by feeding your friend to me?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate everyone’s patience. I was on vacation and I’ve also been working on a Supernatural Big Bang, DCBB, and then after vacation, the ceiling had fallen in at my house – about a two foot hole! – and everything stopped for repairs. Such fun. Back on track now. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic) (anongrimm.tumblr.com)


	6. Roses and Runes

*******************************  
**Arelia**  
*******************************

Books – the room was lousy with them. Snape had a private library stashed away that she would have given someone’s first born to peruse at will.

The bookcases lined the walls around an island in the center that held a massive black suede couch and coffee table in front of a large fireplace. Wide gray hearthstones formed a bench before the warm fire. Above it, the black stone mantle was bare, as was the wall where most people would hang a tapestry, crest, or other decorative item. An open door on the left led to a bedroom but she couldn’t see much in it from this angle except more bookcases.

“Would you like a drink?” He gestured to a crystal decanter on the coffee table. The golden liquid in it had to be firewhiskey.

“No, thank you, sir.”

“Please have a seat.”

She sat on one end of the couch to keep a little distance, but he sat next to her. Picking up one of two glasses, he poured an inch of the liquor into it and sipped.

“That’s an impressive collection,” she said, glancing around at the books and looking anywhere but at him.

“Thank you,” he replied, and turned to face her. “Tell me – did Miss Lachlan put you up to this?”

“Partly. She’s been convincing me that it never hurts to ask, I guess – and assuring me you wouldn’t mind.” He laughed softly, and she looked at him directly for the first time since entering his chambers. “She thinks I have a crush – but I don’t.”

“It’s good to know where I stand.”

“No offense – I mean, I wouldn’t be here if –”

He touched her jaw with a fingertip. “I’m not offended, Miss Galen. I think it’s best to be honest. You are here to explore sex, with one older and more experienced than yourself. You’ve found me fascinating, perhaps – the perennial mystery, with rumor helping to foster curiosity. I don’t require you to feel any particular sentiments. It’s generally simpler that way.”

As his finger began to trace her jaw, she couldn’t fight down the nerves that made her tremble. “I don’t know why I can’t just be relaxed around you, sir.”

“It’s perfectly natural to be nervous.”

“Because we all grow up afraid of you?”

Snape smiled. “I was referring to embarking on the unknown, not to my personal effect on others. To begin, why don’t we drop titles and surnames? It may help.” He put down his glass and took her face in his hands.

Her stomach flipped when he kissed her again. She’d only kissed one or two boys, and that had been in fourth year, on a dare from Carine. Compared to this man, she knew they’d been a waste of time.

He didn’t touch her body until her hands rose and rested against his chest. When his fingers slid from her face and down her neck, she shuddered. His thumb stroked over her collarbone as his kiss became more intense.

Arelia allowed her hands to move up and around his neck, her fingers timidly touching his hair. His right hand moved to her waist and after a moment, pulled her blouse loose from her skirt. Fingers caressed up her spine.

Breaking the kiss, he picked up the edge of her blouse and began raising it. She moved her arms and let him take it off over her head. He tossed it to the coffee table casually and studied her.

“White lace suits you, Arelia.” When his hands cupped her breasts, stroking the lace, she shivered again and closed her eyes. “Exquisite…” He murmured, and leaned forward, his lips brushing above her collarbone.

“Professor Snape?”

“Severus,” he reminded her in a low whisper against her throat.

“Can I change my mind about romance?”

“My dear Arelia, you inspire it.”

His hands on her waist, he drew her up to her feet. The drawstring of her skirt was undone as his lips trailed down her chest. The skirt fluttered to the floor, leaving her in her underwear and boots. The chill of the room made her skin break out in goose bumps.

Gentle pressure on her shoulders urged her to sit again. She watched, amazed, as he knelt at her feet to slip off the boots and socks.

“Prof – um – Severus?” When he looked up, she touched his sleeve. “If we don’t start on those buttons, I’ll be here all night.”

He drew his wand and spoke an Unfastening Charm. Arelia startled to see every button he wore undo itself at once. “I have only one request of you beyond the need for discretion. Do not repeat to others what you see.”

She nodded. The point was clear in his tone and it wasn’t open to interpretation. “You mean the Dark Mark, don’t you, sir? It’s already one of many rumors – but I won’t talk about it.”

“That – is only one of my concerns.”

He set his wand on the coffee table and stood to his feet. When he stripped off the thick black cassock, he tossed it on the couch beside her, and then dropped his shirt over it.

Arelia’s fingers covered her lips, her eyes wide. His body was beautifully made, the skin milk pale and smooth, but he was covered with scars. Unable to meet his gaze, she looked down and noticed the faint burn of the skull on the inside of his left forearm. Faded lines of a serpent crawled from its open mouth. It looked like a tattoo or an old brand.

“How did that happen?” she asked, finally meeting his eyes.

“If you pay attention in ‘Defense Against the Dark Arts’, there should be no need to ask.”

“No, I meant … the scars.”

“Souvenirs of my past.” He sat beside her and slipped out of his shoes and socks. “Since we cannot have you out all night…” Snape stood again and gestured, palm up, to the bedroom door.

“I hope it’s warmer in there or I’m going to be frozen solid.”

He smiled as he picked up his wand. “There is a Warming Charm on the sheets.”

She followed him into the bedroom. When she could look away from the scarring on his back, she saw a luxurious bathroom through an open door.

_Private bathrooms – that is still the best part of being a prefect. It looks like teachers are spoiled even more._

~ ~ ~

The four-poster bed was huge – wizards apparently had a size larger than king. Its headboard was like a cabinet with open sliding doors that revealed a bare small storage space. An armchair sat near a tall wooden bureau, and an ornate wardrobe stood against the wall by the bathroom door.

A narrow tapestry, with the odd scene of a shrouded figure gathering roses, hung on the other side of the wardrobe. More bookcases took up the rest of the wall space. The only light in the room came from a cluster of three thick candles on the bureau.

Snape watched her as he settled his hip on the low footboard, his left hand curling around the carved post. His pants had been unbuttoned by the same charm and she blushed to notice a thin dark line of hairs at the opening.

_When I called those ‘treasure trails’ in fifth year, Carine had said, ‘If you’re lucky.’ _Arelia blushed. Avoiding his gaze again, she saw a tapestry depicting the Slytherin crest rising into the dark over the headboard.

He straightened and took her hand, leading her around to sit on the bed. It was invitingly warm. The top coverlet was Slytherin green wool. She pulled it up to reveal magically heated silk sheets in the heraldic silver.

Snape put his wand on the headboard shelf and leaned in to kiss her again. His fingers deftly undid the catch of her bra. Stepping back, he pulled it gently from her and set it on the bureau.

“Lie back,” he invited. She did, and then stared up at him as he dropped his pants and black silk boxers to the floor.

_It’s a shame I can’t tell ‘others’ about that. Carine would applaud, considering some of the dimensions she doodled in past Charms classes._

He sat beside her and cupped her breasts, his thumbs rubbing over the nipples. When he bent his head and kissed them, she drew in a sharp breath. Before she could deal with how good it felt, his hand was sliding down her stomach.

All of the times Arelia had imagined his long pale fingers touching her, slipping between hot and slick flesh, had not prepared her for the reality of it. His explorations quickened her breathing in moments, and his skill far surpassed hers.

Whispering against her left breast, he asked, “Is this how you wanted it to be?”

_God, yes…_ “Yes, I’ve – ” _Don’t tell him!_

She fell silent and felt his smile on her skin as he traced his tongue and lips down her body. It had always taken her longer but he made her twitch and cry out quickly. The ripples of pleasure washed over her.

His fingers withdrew and hooked her panties at the sides, slowly pulling them down. He shifted as he went and pushed the blankets away with his writsts to allow the panties to slip off her feet. When he moved to lie beside her, his hand cupping over the line of sculpted dark hair between her legs, she abruptly realized she’d left her wand in her skirt on the sitting room floor.

“Have you cast a Contraceptive Spell?” He spoke into her hair as he kissed her throat.

“Yes.”

He slid smoothly over her body, guiding her legs open around his hips. “This will hurt only briefly and you may feel sore for a time, but I will be gentle. Arelia – look at me.”

She met his gaze and tried to still her trembling, hoping he would think it was the cold in the room. His expression was strange, as if he were troubled. Oddly encouraged by it, she lifted her head to kiss him lightly.

When he responded, he shifted his weight and she felt the hard length of his cock jut against the inside of her thigh. Then his mouth drew her thoughts away from everything else until she had relaxed again. Her hands stroked his hair and back as his settled on the bed at her shoulders.

Arelia broke the kiss in alarm as he entered her, but he didn’t pause. He covered her mouth with his again to quiet her cry of pain. A second later, he held himself still and his kiss turned gentle. Breathing rapidly, she slowly started to respond to it as he began to move inside her. After a little time, the pain subsided and she could breathe more evenly.

Turning her head slightly as his tongue and lips began suckling and kissing gently at her throat, she raised her knees and felt the sensations of his motions shift pleasurably. As his mouth returned to her breasts, the pleasure grew.

She caught his gaze only once after his smooth thrusts quickened, and was surprised to see their black depths shadowed with a look of pain. Her fingers rose to touch his face, but he avoided them and set his forehead against her chest. His black hair fell down to hide his face from her.

*******************************  
**Carine**  
*******************************

“Don’t stare daggers at me,” Carine told the beady black eyes that watched her from the foot of the bed. “Beauty wanted to go dally with the Beast, I didn’t push her. Persuaded – but never pushed.”

She paced restlessly in her bathrobe, holding the thick cream terrycloth close to her body. The only sounds in the room were the soft stroke of her slippers on the sheepskin rug and the crackling fire.

When her eyes fell on the crystal decanter on the mantle, they slowly filled with tears. _Please don’t hurt her._

She sat on the padded hope chest and then slid to the sheepskin rug. Drawing her knees up, she circled them with her arms and stared at the fire. Latimer crept onto her shoulder and slipped into her hair, his tail wrapping around her neck.

“I wish she were a Slytherin, so I could explain,” Carine told the rat. A quiet sob escaped and she tried to fight back the tears. “But then she’d be the one under his thumb. I know he’d have chosen her over me. He barely looks at me, unless he’s … but he stares at her all the time. Latimer, I don’t know what I’m doing. I wish I could make him feel it – what he does to me, what he did to Rowan, too. But I don’t want him to hurt Arelia.”

The sobs broke free and she dropped her head onto her arms. The rat’s tail held her tighter, but even that comfort hurt her. She didn’t deserve it. When she raised her head again, she looked over at the painted arch on the wall. The runes mocked her. She’d been afraid to ask Arelia what they meant.

_You’re doing it to her right now, aren’t you?_ Carine’s expression twisted as she glared at the arch. _Making her afraid, making her feel like meat on a hook – worthless, less than nothing._ She stood abruptly, ignoring the small scratches as Latimer struggled to remain in place. Going up to the wall, she cried out and struck it with her palm. _I know this is how you come in here, you bastard. I can’t make it work, but you do. You’ve never tripped my seal on the door. It’s how you watch me, too. _Her hands curled into fists and struck the inside of the arch again.

Something touched her face and she almost hit it before she realized it was Latimer, stroking her cheek with his head. Horrified that she might have hurt him, she crumpled and slipped to the cold stone floor. She detached him from the back of her neck, untangled his feet from her hair and held him against her chest as she cried.

“Oh, God – she’s in love with him. He’ll know it, too. He toyed with Rowan because she loved him.” Turning back to the arch, she raised one hand to it as she clutched the rat in the other. “Please don’t hurt her. It’s my fault, my stupid game. I’m the one you should hurt. Please…”

Latimer stirred and brought her out of her stupor. His intelligent face was blurred through her tears. She let him down to the floor and watched him scurry up onto the bed. Turning to stare at her, the animal moved backward over the coverlet.

“All right, I’m coming,” she whispered.

Carine laid the robe down over the hope chest and climbed into bed. Latimer immediately curled up in a ball in her arms, close to her face. Exhausted, she fell into a fitful sleep.

Drifting in disjointed images, her mind fell into nightmare. It was the empty dark room again, full of whispers – the touch in the blinding night, the hands lifting her nightgown. Yet she had started school and the young rat would come and bite the hand any moment now. Then its small white body would be thrown against the cream and rosebud wallpaper. He would curse her, hurt her, and blame the blood on the rat. It had bitten her and she hadn’t bothered to keep the blood off the sheets. Her mother, calm, refused to question. Buy another white rat.

She turned and moaned in her sleep, speaking in broken sentences. The black rat, awake, watched over her through the night.

*******************************  
**Severus**  
*******************************

Unwanted memory threatened and he pushed it away. Emotion tried to rise and he suppressed it. The struggle almost made him forget to be gentle.

_You’re a fool, Severus__._ The oppressive dark weight of pain surged beneath festering scars of heart, mind and soul. _Take them, use them in their willing greed for privilege, but do not show them care, do not give them compassion. If you allow that wound to open it will kill you._

The woman beneath him was melting into him, ready to give more than her body. Her resistance to wanting his regard had ended with this act, with this gentle giving. She reached for more too, unaware that what he offered was only the semblance of feeling, because his preferred tastes would have turned her away.

She clutched at him and cried out as he focused again on her needs, simultaneously reviving the dangerous hidden pain. A face swam in his vision, smiling sweetly. He had loved her enough to free his tortured soul, to attempt to change; until his own actions brought about her death. With a gasp he shook his head, wincing at memories that refused to die. The image cleared and it was gray eyes he saw, the expression one of abrupt concern.

“Are you okay?”

He groped for her name, found it, and then feared to speak it. He nodded instead. To distract them both, he moved faster again, sucking at her breasts softly as he forced his pain down. The pleasure her body offered tore through his as he fought to regain control of himself.

Her limbs held him tightly; her hands in his hair touched the sides of his face. When the knot of need deep in his groin released, he cried out the old nickname in a ragged breath and collapsed heavily onto her.

In the silence as she stroked his hair, he felt the horror of what he’d done. _I spoke her name, the pet name she never knew, though others did. After all these years…_ Then his fear sharpened. _Did this one hear it?_

“Uh … Severus … you’re not light…”

Not trusting himself to speak, he moved away from her. Lying on his back, his hands rose to cover his face. _Did she hear it?_

A gentle hand touched both of his, caressed them and slipped down his forearm to settle on his stomach. “You know, if I do have a little crush, maybe you do too. Or wasn’t that Carine’s name you said? Mine starts with an A after all.”

_Carine. Yes. She would think that._ Relief flooded through him, allowing him to look at her smiling face. “Your pardon, a true sin against the spirit of romance; I’d dock points from myself, but I don’t think it would count.”

“I forgive you,” she teased, “but you could just ask her. It never hurts.” She winked and he raised an eyebrow at her. “I assure you she wouldn’t mind.”

“Perhaps not. For now, I appreciate the restraint of natural female jealousy.”

Arelia leaned down to kiss him and he responded more ardently than he expected. “You’ll find out I’m not the jealous type,” she whispered against his lips.

“A refreshing trait – but not a common one.”

“Yes, well… Carine and I share everything. Maybe the Sorting Hat can tell the future, and it wanted to keep us apart for fear we’d plot to take over the world.”

Severus smiled. “If you did, and required soldiers, I might have to consider it. The pair of you would put the Dark Lord’s recruiting practices to shame.”

Arelia’s shock turned into laughter. “I hope so – and thanks for the disturbing image.”

“Your welcome.” He studied her as physical release pleasantly turned his limbs to lead. “Not many cope with my rather dark sense of humor.”

“I feel better for finding out you have one.” She moved closer and touched his chest. “May I stay here a while longer?”

“Tomorrow is Sunday and my time is free, but your housemates might notice your absence.”

Pushing the curtain of dark hair away from her face, she laid her head on his chest. “They’ll probably cheer. At least the ones who bet I’d finally do this in seventh year.”

“That’s true. Perhaps I should cheer. I put in a few Galleons in your sixth year.”

Arelia sat up sharply and aimed a teasing strike at him that he caught easily. She didn’t let his lips on her fingers distract her. “How did you know about that stupid bet?”

“I overheard your pompous Beldon asking Silas in class if he wanted in. You’ll be impressed to know he refused. I’m not certain exactly what he called the boy, but it must have been effective. As I am on occasion a bastard, I spoke to Beldon about it after class. Only because I thought it best that you – how did Miss Lachlan put it? ‘Expand your horizons’? For the sake of your education, of course.”

She smiled. “Of course – only the noblest of intentions for Professor Snape. You might not be eligible to collect in your current position, though. We’d have to check the rules the idiots drew up.”

“We won’t be reporting the consummation of the bet. Unless you fancy someone else you can publicly declare. Silas, for instance – as you say, he wouldn’t mind.”

Arelia frowned. “Who is Silas?”

Amusement improved his mood. “Ah, how perilous it is to tilt at feminine windmills. Poor boy. Silas is your partner in my class this year; the strapping Hufflepuff of Quidditch legend to be.”

“Oh!” She lay back down and stretched her body against him. “I’ve been trying to figure out his name for about two years now. I get easily distracted and studies have always been more interesting than boys. I think Carine was right – you eclipse them entirely.” She fell silent and her lips kissed his chest.

“I should hope so.”

Severus felt her smile against his skin but she didn’t speak again.

Wisdom whispered that he should get her up and out, but his body was tired and sleep edged in on his concern.

~ ~ ~

“What’s with the memento mori?”

Severus woke fully and stared at her. She had noticed his Herrick tapestry. “I acquired that before I came to teach here.” He shrugged and reached for his bathrobe. “It appealed to me, image and sentiment.”

When he emerged from the bathroom, she was still admiring the tapestry. “The verse is in runes I should know, but the threads are too faded. What does it say?”

He quoted it from memory. “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, old time is still a-flying: and this same flower that smiles today, tomorrow will be dying.” He sat on the edge of the bed and tightened the sash of his robe. “Penned by Robert Herrick, a seventeenth century poet; it’s titled, _To the Virgins, To Make Much of Time_.”

Arelia studied him in silence a moment. “So I’ve made much of it; what now?”

“Now, I plan to bathe and ignore breakfast. You should escape before the hall fills with curious Slytherins.”

“Once I do, we’ll be back to being Professor Snape and Miss Galen. Is this a once only harvest or can I be gathered again some other time?”

“I hadn’t thought that far.”

“Then you’re the one underestimating your talents.” She crept up to him, pulled the bathrobe back from his shoulder and kissed it.

“Miss Galen, do not assume the situation has changed.”

Her hands slid into the robe and pushed it from his body as she caressed him. “I know nothing’s changed. I’m not going to fall at your feet and you probably aren’t going to stop being crass and rude. I’ve decided I don’t care if you are. However, since you might not invite me a second time, I’ll have you again now.”

“You assume I am in agreement?”

Her hand came forward and gripped his growing erection gently. “Yes, I do.”

“You don’t know much about men. That is a regular morning ritual for most male bodies, with or without company.”

“I would hate to be accused of being demanding. So … do you want this?” She kissed him and her hand squeezed him slightly.

He would have to refuse her, but even as he made that decision, his mouth responded eagerly to hers. As he dropped the robe and slipped over her body, his teeth nipped her throat. “I may regret the loss of your fear, Miss Galen.”

She gasped as he entered her again. “I’ll pretend to be afraid later if that’s what attracted you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been having fun editing, improving, and adding things to this story as I go. There is also a big fanged plot coming along later – there be (non-literal) dragons. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic) (anongrimm.tumblr.com)


	7. Unseen Things

*******************************  
**Arelia**  
*******************************

Carine stood silently for a long moment. “At least you had the brains not to fall in love like Rowan.”

Arelia held the rail of the covered bridge and looked out at the breathtaking view around the school. She couldn’t hide her smile.

“So he wasn’t a beast?” Carine asked.

“No. He was rather irritable at first, but claimed it was because of your Quidditch team boys getting injured.”

“Claimed?”

“Well, maybe he was – but I got the impression he was annoyed because I was almost late.”

“That’s a heck of a way to start. You had an hour, what did you do? Get there at a quarter till?”

“I arrived with two minutes to spare.” She grinned at Carine’s shocked look. “On purpose. I wanted to see what he’d do, and I was so nervous I couldn’t get myself together until nearly then.”

“Not contradictory reasons at all.” Carine sighed. “So did you stop being a basket case?”

“Eventually. Then I proceeded right into brazen like you suggested, but that was this morning.”

Carine turned to face her. “You stayed the whole night?”

“Yes, plus most of this morning. That’s why I missed breakfast.”

“And he was nice to you,” she said, her voice flat with disbelief.

“I wouldn’t call it nice. He’s as moody and acidic as you said, but as fascinating as I always imagined, too. He was tolerating me, probably.”

“So what did you think? Was it worth it?”

“Yes. I don’t have anything to compare it to – but yes. Oh! He knew my Hufflepuff’s name: Silas.” Arelia frowned. “I don’t know if that’s his surname or not.”

“Who cares? If Snape used it, it was his surname. End of the Hufflepuff topic.”

“Not quite. Apparently he defended my honor to our Head Boy. Remember that stupid bet Beldon started in fifth year?”

“Yeah, but you can’t claim it with Snape. He’d keel-haul you.”

“He bet on me last year.”

“Snape? He would.”

Arelia looked out again, over the Forbidden Forest. Just as the sunset turned silver and gold, a black winged shape rose up out of the treetops. It looked like a dark Pegasus with a reptilian head. “Carine, look – a Thestral!” She pointed.

Carine glanced up and stared, then shook her head. “I know they pull the carriages, but I can’t see them.” She turned her head to watch her friend. “Who died on you?”

“I sat with my aunt in the hospital when she was in a coma after a car accident. I was ten, and my parents didn’t want me to stay in the room so much, but she was my favorite relative, and I won the fight.” The Thestral sank back into the trees. “You told me your cousin died when you were in third year, at your house. I’m glad you didn’t see it. He fell down the stairs, right?”

“After a mishap with a spell, yeah; he was playing with the Dark Arts, I’m sure of it.” Carine’s eyes shone with tears.

Arelia touched her shoulder gently. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it still upset you so much.”

She wiped at her eyes. “It doesn’t really. We didn’t get along. I hated it when he’d stay with us. It was just – such a horrible way to die.”

“Wasn’t he an infamous Quidditch player here at school?”

Carine nodded. “Hellfire Hamish Ketch, the Bludger God. Mom goes on and on about the pro teams scouting him in his seventh year, right before he died; she’s still all myopic about it. She thought he could do no wrong.”

“So why didn’t you get along? Besides him being a member of the Slytherin brute squad.”

“He had a habit of throwing my pets against walls,” she replied, glaring out at the sunset.

“Oh. I’m sorry, and relieved he didn’t hurt Latimer.” Eager to change the subject, she added, “How is he? Rhiannon misses him.”

Carine smiled. “I bet. She misses picking him up by the tail and flying him over the lake, right? Bloody owl.”

~ ~ ~

Arriving at Potions class on Monday morning, Arelia ignored Snape as she set out her text and supplies. He paid no attention to her, and that made it easy. For the first time, she smiled at the handsome boy who took the desk next to hers.

“Hello, Silas.”

He recovered from his surprise and grinned. “Hi.”

“I’m sorry I missed you at the game.”

“That’s okay. I ended up going down to help with the casualties.”

“Aiding Slytherins in need; very humanitarian of you.”

“Not really – I was hauling Gowan, the Gryffindor Chaser.”

“So you said you wanted to play professionally? Carine reminded me of her cousin Ketch the other day. He was going to play for a pro team, but he had an accident.”

“I knew Ketch.” He took out his book and quill. “If any team would take me, I could die happy, but I’d love to play for the Heidelberg Harriers.”

_Heidelberg?_ Arelia hid a smile. _No wonder Carine accused me of aspiring to be a house frau._ She phased out the Quidditch talk and just studied him. _If he weren’t so built, he’d almost be pretty. I’d be bored, but the children would be gorgeous. I wonder if I’d be bored in bed? After Snape, I might be._

Professor Snape called the class to order and they settled in to pay attention. Now and then, Arelia thought about what Snape had said about Silas defending her to Beldon last year. Once, she glanced over at the Head Boy and smirked at him, enjoying his nervous reaction.

“Are you friends with him?” Silas whispered.

“Who, Beldon? Not really. He’s not a mortal enemy but too pompous to call a friend. Why?”

He shook his head. When Snape turned to harass a Gryffindor, he looked at her. “He’s – he hasn’t got a habit of speaking about women with tact.”

“I know. I know about the bet, too, and heard that you called him something foul over it. I appreciate it.”

He closed his mouth with a snap and then muttered, “Anytime.”

“So what’s your first name, Silas?”

“Alexander, but my friends call me Xander.”

Arelia abruptly noticed Professor Snape watching her as he stood over the hapless Gryffindor’s cauldron. She let a smile spread over her lips and whispered, “Would you pass me a newt, Xander?”

*******************************  
**Carine**  
*******************************

Care of Magical Creatures was let out early again and Carine took the opportunity to duck out and visit Hagrid. The walk down to the Groundskeeper’s hut gave her time to think about what she could and couldn’t tell him. Hagrid wasn’t there when she arrived, and she didn’t hear Fang bark at her knock.

_Is he in the forest?_ Looking around quickly once, she slipped under the shadows of the trees. “Hagrid? Fang?”

A deep voice hailed her from between the trees, “That yeh, Carine?”

Fang bounded out at her and begged for a scratch. She pacified the huge black Mastiff brute with her manicured nails and followed him to his master.

“Class is canceled early, so I came to see you,” she said when Hagrid came into sight.

The giant man with the heavy beard and mop of brown hair was bent double to inspect the foreleg of a Thestral mare. “What part o’ Professor Kettleburn got eaten this time?” he asked.

“Nothing eaten,” she replied with a smile. When she reached out to stroke the mare’s neck, Fang whimpered his neglect. “He lost a fight with a bowtruckle. Sad, really.”

“Well, it takes all kinds, don’ it?”

“Is this Ghania? She’s gotten so big. What’s wrong with her?”

“Yeah, tis her, but I don’ rightly know. Favorin’ it she was.” As he straightened, he eyed Carine closely. “Won’ do if yeh’re seen in here. What’s on yer mind?”

“Nothing.”

“Humph. Well, come on down ter the house. I gotta fix a salve fer that leg. Tea?”

“Sure.”

The hut was tidy for Hagrid. He hadn’t known she was coming to visit, so he must have cleaned up for someone else. She sat at the table and stroked the dog’s head that had immediately landed on her lap. He’d drool on her school robes, but she couldn’t care about it.

She watched the man make tea and smiled quietly to herself. Some people were afraid of Hagrid for his size and fierce appearance, but he was as gentle and easy to like as Fang.

Carine blushed when she thought of the night she’d found out he was her friend. She’d snuck off to the Hog’s Head on a Hogsmeade weekend in her third year and gotten drunk on firewhiskey. The simple fact that she’d mistaken the light in Hagrid’s windows for part of the castle proved how far gone she had been. The surprised Groundskeeper had taken her in and helped her sober up with quarts of black coffee. To this day, she wasn’t sure of all she might have told him that night.

The following day she had snuck down to thank him and found him training some of the Thestrals for hauling carriages. The shock of seeing the beasts for the first time had taken her mind off of her troubles and Hagrid hadn’t said anything about the fact that she could see them. Without a word, he had let her help care for a mare and her foal. The foal had been Ghania.

“Here y’are,” he said, putting down two massive mugs of steaming tea. He took a chair opposite her and sipped from his mug. “Got summat wrong with yeh, Carine, Fang an’ I always can tell. Is it them boys? Hayden? Heard they was bein’ difficult.”

She smiled at his fiercely protective look. _What’s the wrath of Snape compared to Hagrid’s fists? Too bad I can’t ask him to do that. I’d love to watch. I’m not sure it’s Hayden I’d want to sick him on, though. _“Not really. It’s Professor Snape.” She swallowed hard. “He’s – well, the N.E.W.T. level class is tough.”

“I’m s’posed to believe that? On’y, yeh’re one o’ the smartest girls in school, right? Potions should be a snap fer yeh.”

“The work isn’t bad, it’s him. You know how he is.”

“I do.” He tugged at his beard for a second. “Carine, I got ter tell yeh summat that’s been botherin’ me. I know ‘bout the tutorin’.”

_Shit._ “You mean helping the other students? I’ve almost been too busy for it. How did you know about it?”

“A friend tol’ me ‘bout it last year, an’ I got eyes. The whole mob o’ them boys go after folks every year, an’ Hayden’s been leadin’ ’em awhile, too. Now I know yeh can’ jus’ report Snape, but yeh gotta get out o’ it.”

_Oh my God. Who told him? Rowan?_ “Hagrid, please, you haven’t said anything to anyone have you?”

“No, an’ I won’, but yeh’re a mess. I ain’t seen yeh smile straight since the year started.”

_Tell him, _she argued with herself._ You wanted a friend to talk to about it. Here he is, and he already knows. God, if Snape found out! _She clutched the heavy mug, not trusting herself to lift it. “I can’t get out of it. Hagrid, you have to understand. I didn’t know – nearly enough about him. I thought I could handle him, like the rest of the idiotic male horde. Begging your pardon,” she added, and hoisted the mug at last to avoid his gaze.

“Professor Snape is’n’ a boy.”

“I asked for it. I wanted the advantages, the perks, and the whole damn thing. I went after him, and I got – what I thought I wanted. I couldn’t deal with those boys anymore. I wanted them to just leave me alone. I knew if I were the new Teacher’s Pet, they couldn’t touch me. Not Marcus or Hayden – any of them.”

“They been touchin’ plenty others. I heard ‘bout the Ravenclaw Seeker, too.”

Carine hung her head. Fang whined, but she didn’t let go of the mug. “I asked him to stop them from doing that. He said he would.”

“Then yeh can ask him ter stop it all. He ain’t hurtin’ yeh, is he?”

“No!” She stared up at him, willing him to believe it. “It’s not like that. He’s – callous … but he doesn’t hurt me.” A heated blush crept up her face. “Most of the time, he’s – well … he knows what he’s doing … in a good way.”

“Humph. Got yeh wound up in knots, though, don’ he?”

“It’s not his fault. I’m not… I’m…” The tears started before she could hide them.

Hagrid moved his chair closer with a loud scraping noise. Fang retreated as the giant hand reached out to comfort her, patting her back. He pulled a striped handkerchief from a pocket and handed it to her.

“It’s what yeh said ter me before, is’n’ it? ‘Bout that wretch cousin o’ yers?”

She dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief. “I told you about that?”

“Yeah. Figured yeh didn’ remember.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Does Professor Snape know ‘bout him?”

“No.”

“Tell him,” he urged. “Tell him yeh got a right ter be treated well an’ all, too. Mostly, yeh ought ter tell him ter go fish up a tree.”

Carine laughed in spite of herself. Hagrid’s bushy brows were frowning in earnest, but the image of her standing up to Snape was ridiculous enough to be funny.

“Maybe I could tell him about Hamish … but it just doesn’t work that way. I went after him and I agreed to play by his rules … so I’m stuck. If I backed out now, I’d be an outcast in my own house, and God – how could I talk about all that stuff to … him?”

“He’s human – or that’s the rumor, is’n’ it? Yeh can’ let him treat yeh like this. Don’ worry ‘bout askin’ fer it. Yeh knew Rowan, didn’ yeh?”

“Yes, I did. She warned me about him, but I thought…”

“So did she. She had it all figured out, she did.” He shook his shaggy mane. “She tol’ me that the girl before her was into it, didn’ care ‘bout it. She thought she could do the same. She was wrong, an’ so’re yeh.”

“I can’t back out. I won’t.”

“Then talk. Make him treat yeh right.”

_I can’t do that either._ She slumped in her chair. “I’ll try to make him understand.” She sipped the tea as Hagrid sat back. “Can I help you make the salve? I just – want to think about something else for a while.”

Hagrid gave her a kind smile. “Sure yeh can. Glad o’ the help.”

They finished off the tea and started putting the medicine together. Carine picked up his mortar and pestle and mashed up the strips of mandrake root. Fang had tried to worm his way into her lap again but seemed to change his mind when her tears turned to anger and the mandrake root suffered for it.

When they were finished, Hagrid carried the bowl of salve and Carine followed him back into the forest, trying to reassure Fang with pats and scratches that she wasn’t upset with him.

It was nearly dark when she headed back up to the castle, but she felt better than she had in weeks. Slipping into the Great Hall, she sat quickly and started in on dinner. She had been ignoring the teacher’s table so thoroughly that the meal was over before she knew that Snape hadn’t been present at all.

*******************************  
**Severus**  
*******************************

“I believe I told you to cease this sort of behavior?” Severus asked, his tone arcing from derision to arrogant distaste.

Hayden and Silas straightened reluctantly and their fists slowly uncurled. The hall was dim around them and neither boy had seen their Potions master approach.

“Yes, sir,” the heavy Slytherin responded, his eyes sweeping the floor.

“Professor Snape, I can explain, if he won’t,” Silas offered.

“If it has anything to do with Miss Lachlan, I already know about it, but I think ten points from Hufflepuff should suffice for fighting.”

“Sir! This oaf –”

“Is going to serve detention with me this coming Saturday afternoon; it would be a pity if you had to join him. What would your team do without you?”

Silas lifted his chin proudly. “Your pardon, sir.”

“Go about your business, Mr. Silas. Mr. Hayden, I need to discuss your detention with you.”

They waited until the Hufflepuff had gone down the stairs. Severus turned and entered an empty classroom, followed reluctantly by his student.

“This new rule kills our fun, sir.”

“So you’ve decided to harass students who have nothing to do with Miss Lachlan?”

“He got in my way. Sir.”

“Mr. Hayden, I do not care if the delicate sensibilities of Miss Lachlan have ruined your favorite sport in your final year. I expect obedience from students and to be obeyed without fail or delay by members of my own house – sans embellishment. Is any part of that unclear?”

“No, sir.”

“Meet me in my office after breakfast on Saturday – for detention,” Severus ordered. He smiled thinly as he watched the unborn protest fade from the boy’s face.

Exiting the room without a backward glance, he left Hayden to think over the consequences of disobedience.

A clear contralto voice called out to him from down the hall. “Professor Snape. Severus?”

He turned and frowned as she approached. “Professor Falchion.” _She looks the same as the last time I saw her – was it a Blasting Curse she threw?_ “I hear congratulations are in order on your recent nuptials.”

“Thank you, but I didn’t stop you to chat. I’ve been talking with Professor McGonagall and we both feel we have a student in common who may be having problems. She’s in your house and one of your students, so I wanted to ask you about it. It’s Miss Lachlan.”

“The situation has already been handled. Miss Lachlan’s problems, namely Mr. Hayden and Mr. Marcus, have been dealt with for their displays of aggression.” He met her stare with a chilly calm.

“Then I will look for the situation to improve. She is a gifted young woman and we have been concerned that her lack of concentration in our classes could herald a deeper issue.”

“I will talk with her myself and determine if she feels justified in the disciplinary action on her peers. As it stands now, I see no further difficulty in her path. Good evening, Professor.” He walked away, but her voice called after him.

“Some things remain unseen, Professor. As we both know all too well.”

~ ~ ~

The fire in his chambers blazed, driving away the chill of the room. Severus sat on the couch with his wand twirling between the fingers of his left hand and his eyes on the flames.

_She was there. She knows all of it – what was public, at least, which was more than enough. My past is nothing but a book to that woman, to be read at will. I never thought I could miss Quirrel._

He rose abruptly and went to stand before the Herrick tapestry. Reaching out, he lifted it and moved it aside. The pole that mounted it to the stone wall swung out on a clever hinge, revealing a wide painted black arch filled with silver runes.

Transferring his wand to his right hand, he tapped the inside of the arch once. “Visus.” The gray stone faded within the arch and became a window, looking out into a brightly lit and beautifully appointed chamber.

The lone figure of a blonde girl sat on the hope chest before the fire, wrapped in a thick bathrobe. A small dark creature curled in her lap looked up, staring at him unmistakably through the spell.

_Does Angelique Falchion recognize your resemblance to another we both once knew? You are not her twin, but the similarities haunt me. The other one, your friend of fear and sudden boldness – it was a mistake to lie with her. Though she cannot recall the past with her face, the thin façade of gentle ardor threatened. And so it is you, again, and yet they try to take even that. I will not allow it._

He waited until she turned away – picking up an iron poker to stir the fire, and dislodging the rat. Placing his hand over the image without touching it, he raised his wand again.

“Cataracta.”

The cold of the Portcullis Charm enveloped him as he stepped inside the arch. The rodent still stared and when Miss Lachlan turned, she cried out. Behind him, the wall appeared to be stone again, though the charm was still on it.

“Professor,” she said, holding the robe tightly closed with eyes downcast. When he said nothing, she made a soft sound, like a mouse snagged by an owl. Her hands moved, beginning to open the robe. Her rat bared its teeth at him.

“Stop,” he said. She obeyed, trembling. “There is a matter we must discuss, Miss Lachlan. It seems your behavior has altered sufficiently to attract the attention of your other teachers, eliciting their concern. The sport of Hayden and the others has been stopped. Is there any further thing you require before this distracted melancholy can be set aside?”

It seemed for a moment that she would speak but she shook her head instead, whispering, “No, sir. Nothing.”

“Then I may expect your behavior to improve and cease alarming others?”

The aggravating girl began to cry. “Yes, sir.”

Watching her, his anger kindled – yet something else rose up in him too, an emotion he refused to entertain.

“Do you wish…?” She asked, her eyes downcast again, fingers poised on the collar of her robe.

“No. I want you to rest, and I will determine later if your attitude has improved.”

“Sir? May I speak?”

“What is it?”

“I – wanted to thank you, for being kind to Arelia.”

Severus frowned. “That was a mistake I will not repeat. Do you understand that, Miss Lachlan?”

“Yes, sir, but – this weekend?”

“What about it?”

“It’s a Hogsmeade weekend, sir. You said…”

His glare stopped her cold. “I know what I said. I’ve changed my mind. You may go into town with your friend.”

She nodded and closed her robe again. For one blinding moment, he wanted to reach out and tear it from her. The urge built – to press her down and take her. Gripping his wand, he fought it fiercely.

Whatever her thoughts might be, emotional pain was plain on her exquisite face, and her tears called up the abyss of his loss. Knowing the heat of his anger wouldn’t stand against it, he backed into the waiting portal the moment her eyes weren’t on him.

Standing once again in his bedchamber, he whispered, “Finite Incantatum.”

He dropped his wand to his side as his other hand rose and touched the solid stone. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against it as his hair fell to curtain his face. In the silence, he whispered a name, reverently, as if offering a prayer to a patron saint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The magical arch linking Snape’s chamber to the Tutor’s suite is one of my favorite things I invented for this story. I’ve also fixed a few details and gotten more of the school year chronology correct this time. There are so many more details and resources available now than there were ages ago when I originally wrote this. I’ve been editing this story all day and I may post another chapter soon but I also need to work on other WIPs. I guess I’ll roll the dice tomorrow. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic) (anongrimm.tumblr.com)


	8. Hogsmeade

*******************************  
**Arelia**  
*******************************

At the welcome sight of her friend coming through the crowd of students in coats, Arelia smiled a greeting. They were both in jeans and boots under their open coats with matching scoopneck sweaters – hers blue and Carine’s green – that they had bought with Hogsmeade in mind back home in Bristol during the makeover shopping spree. Carine had been insisting for weeks that she couldn’t go visit the town.

“I’m glad you changed your mind. Hogsmeade isn’t fun without you.” Arelia placed her hand on Carine’s shoulder and then pulled her into a hug. Carine clung to her a moment and she held her close. “Are you all right?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Carine answered as she released her. She stared behind her so intensely that Arelia turned.

Xander Silas was coming down the steps with Kenneth Shaw. Arelia glanced at Carine as the boys, their brooms in their hands, checked in with Filch. The rest of the Hufflepuff team and Seamus Connor, the Ravenclaw Captain, came up behind them, also lugging their brooms. Arelia heard Filch sourly remind them all to keep where no Muggles would see them flying.

Since Carine didn’t seem eager to face Kenneth, Arelia tried to get moving down the road, but they’d already been spotted.

“Good morning,” Xander said.

“Hi. What’s with the brooms?”

“We’re going to practice some flying tricks. I talked Kenneth and Seamus into joining us.”

Seamus laughed. “Conscripted, you mean. We’d rather be hoisting butterbeers with our teammates.”

“You won’t regret it,” Xander promised. “If we have time to stop in at the Three Broomsticks,” he added to Arelia, “I’d like to buy you a drink.”

“If I see you there, I’ll let you.” She smiled and turned when Carine started down the path alone. “Wait up,” she called after her and trotted to her side. “You didn’t say hello to Kenneth.”

“The results weren’t so good the last time I did.”

“But they’ve stopped that behavior and you said it was squared with Marcus. So why not speak to him now? I know you liked him.”

“He got beat because of me. He’s probably not keen on being friends.”

“Nonsense.” _He’s probably in love with her. _Arelia glanced back once and saw the boys mounting their brooms to start their practice.

The slender and handsome Seeker was watching Carine with a wistful expression. He didn’t look away until he saw Arelia notice him. He rose up with the expert speed and skill of one of the finest players their house had – last to take off but first in the flight to the town.

_Something doesn’t make sense. Carine isn’t telling me everything – and she may be leaving out a lot._

Carine had started walking more slowly. “Want to know my latest effort for advancing the evil plot?”

Arelia smiled. This was the Carine she knew and loved. “Fire away.”

“I’m going to rent us a room at the Hog’s Head, through tomorrow afternoon.”

“Presumably, we’ll have daggers under our pillows.”

“Won’t be necessary. We’re going to have Snape on top of the pillows. He’s dangerous enough.”

“Not so long ago, I’d have fought you on the idea.”

“Without success … but probably. What’s changed?”

“He’s been pretending I don’t exist lately, when he isn’t watching me on the sly; so I’m game for another try. Is this the tag-team idea you envisioned originally?”

“That’s the one.”

“I thought that was a parallel idea, not a ganging up on him thing.”

“Sometimes you have to alter the plot as you go along. He’s been less than responsive to my other invitations, so I thought I’d stack the deck. After all, I learned in Muggle Studies that it’s most men’s favorite fantasy.”

Arelia raised her eyebrows. “He’s not a Muggle. Since when did they teach male fantasies in that class?”

“They don’t. A girl in class told me. She said it’s all over Muggle entertainment. I figure what’s good for the Muggle gander is good for the magical one.”

“I hate to tell you this, but one of the main elements the Muggles like about it is the things the girls do – without the man’s help.”

As they arrived in the town and broke away from the throng to head toward the inn first, Carine flashed her old evil smirk at her. “You aren’t going to let a little kink stop you, are you? Besides, I’m a notorious kisser.”

Arelia laughed. “Humble, too. Shelve that for now. How are you going to get Snape there?”

“I’m still working on that. Maybe after a day of Hayden’s company in detention, he’ll need a stiff drink. He always goes to the Hog’s Head and quite often on a Saturday night, too. I can sit in the taproom and keep watch.”

“Leaving me to wait out the evening in the old Goblin Rebellion HQ, huh? I should have brought a book.”

A shout of laughter overhead startled them. The Hufflepuff team and the two Ravenclaw flyers shot overhead on their way back up to the castle. As they watched, Xander did a Sloth Grip Roll to avoid being hit by a pinecone thrown by a teammate.

Kenneth executed a shocking dive and caught the thing within inches of inserting himself bodily into the road. He pulled out of the dive and climbed again quickly enough to inspire applause from observers all over the town.

Carine watched it all with a slight frown. “I wish things were different.”

“You can still talk to him, smooth things over.”

“It wouldn’t do any good.” She tracked him until they all flew behind the castle. “I should have made better choices this year, that’s all.”

Arelia touched her arm as they resumed walking. “You know you can talk to me about anything you need to. If something’s wrong, I’d like to help.”

“You are helping. For starters, you can help with the cost of the room. We want windows that look away from the castle, a decent suite – and they cost more.”

“I don’t mind financing your evil, but if there’s a real problem, you can trust me to help when you’re ready to talk about it.”

~ ~ ~

After the suite was secured, they left the Hog’s Head to pursue the more mundane Hogsmeade distractions. Carine had ducked into Honeydukes, and Arelia stopped at Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop.

She was admiring the feather quills when she saw Professor Falchion enter the shop. The teacher spotted her and headed her way.

“Hello, Miss Galen. I wonder if I could have a word with you? I’m sorry to trouble you on a Saturday, but it’s not about school, necessarily.”

“It’s no trouble, Professor. What did you need?”

“I wanted to ask you about your friend, Miss Lachlan. Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and I have been concerned for her. She’s been distracted in our classes and appears to have an on-going problem with some of her housemates? It has started affecting her grades, too. Since you and she are friends, I wondered if you knew where the real trouble was.”

“I wish I did, ma’am. Professor Snape said he would make those boys stop harassing her and her friends, and he seems to have done that, though I still worry that something is wrong.” Arelia picked up a stiff scarlet feather and stroked it. “She won’t talk to me about it – but I made it clear she can.”

“I see. Well, if she does, and it’s anything I can help with, will you let me know?”

“Yes, ma’am, I will.”

The professor and former Auror watched her in silence for a moment. “Do you know much about her deceased cousin, Hamish Ketch?”

“Only that he died in her house from a fall. He was a Quidditch star at school, a Beater. Carine said she thought he was playing with the Dark Arts, and that’s what really killed him.”

“It was a Dark Arts spell that killed him, that’s true. It’s possible he was dead before he fell. I knew the Auror and Ministry officials who investigated the death. They performed a Priori Incantatem Spell on Mr. Ketch’s wand. The last thing he cast with it was a Hex-Deflection Spell.”

“Oh.” Arelia stroked the feather along her jaw, thinking.

“I believe Miss Lachlan and he were the only people in the house that day, though she claimed to have been in her room when he died – something about tending to a hurt pet. Would you know anything about that?”

“No. Forgive me, Professor, but are you asking after her health or trying to solve an old case?”

Falchion smiled. It was a chilled expression. “My apologies. It is difficult to stop being an Auror at times, and that case was never solved to anyone’s satisfaction. Yes, I am asking about her health. I fear someone may be making her very uncomfortable and that concerns me – for her welfare, of course.”

_Of course._ “If she tells me anything about a problem and you could help, I’ll let you know.” _Right after I enlist in the Merpeople’s hiking club._

“Your assistance is appreciated. Her teachers have been very concerned. Have a good weekend, Miss Galen.”

“Thank you, ma’am, you too.” Arelia watched her leave. She bought the scarlet feather quill just to put more distance between herself and the teacher. When she left the shop, she was relieved to discover that the professor wasn’t in sight.

Heading back to Honeydukes, she heard a voice overhead call her name. Looking up, she was surprised to see Kenneth. He landed his Nimbus broom beside her.

“Carine’s avoiding me, isn’t she?” he asked, nervously running his fingers through his shoulder-length dark hair.

“I think she’s ashamed of what her housemates did. I also think she misses you.”

“Where is she?”

“In Honeydukes. Want to come talk to her?”

“No, not now. If she wants to, she can find me. I promised to teach these flying trolls some maneuvers and they’ll be catching up with me in a minute.” His light green eyes searched Arelia’s, full of wistful concern. “If she asks, I’m not angry. I’ve heard about this junk before in Slytherin. Silas said it’s been going on for years.”

“They didn’t start harassing her until this year.”

“Not her, other girls – and some of them liked it, egged it on. Beldon tried to tell me she asked them to, but that’s bullshit.”

“Sir Beldon is an idiot.”

“Yeah.” His fingers tapped along the broomstick shaft. “Okay. Gotta fly.”

“Kenneth?”

“What?”

“She hasn’t really told me what’s going on, but last year, she wouldn’t take a breath in between speeches about how wonderful you were to her. That’s a record, since she usually can’t stand guys our age. I hope she’ll talk to you, maybe make up.”

His expression was hard to read as he mounted the broom again. “Maybe. I’d like that, but a lot’s changed since last year. See you,” he said, and took off at a dizzying speed, his Quidditch robe fluttering in his wake.

Arelia sighed and continued on to the candy shop. Reunited with the enigmatic Carine and the hoard of sweets she had purchased, Arelia gave her Kenneth’s message. She took it in silence, and then changed the subject back to the evil plot. They headed for the Hog’s Head again while Carine dug out odd candies for her to try, keeping up a banal chatter that might have been designed to prevent her from asking questions. She didn’t mention her odd run-in with Professor Falchion.

Carine asked Arelia to take their stash up to the room. The blonde remained in the taproom downstairs to scope for Snape. To combat boredom after ditching her coat, Arelia made her new scarlet quill float around the room. She didn’t think much would come of this phase of the evil plot. It was highly likely that Snape wouldn’t show.

Abruptly, the memory of his touch made her shudder deliciously. As her smile grew, the scene played out again in her mind’s eye. Whatever happened, she knew she wanted to be with him again, and though she might not have sought to be with Carine in that way, the idea didn’t repulse her.

M_aybe a little of his expert attention is what she needs to get out of her funk._ Arelia smiled. _I know I don’t have anything to compare him to, but if Witch Weekly is to be believed, not many men know what they’re doing in bed. That one obviously does._

Arelia leaned back into the pile of pillows behind her head. Her fingers slid inside the waistband of her jeans as her thoughts returned to Snape’s talents. She forgot about the quill and didn’t notice when it fell to the floor.

*******************************  
**Carine**  
*******************************

_Was it the last Slytherin vs. Hufflepuff game? _Carine frowned a moment, then tossed the question aside. It wasn’t important.

Ravenclaw hadn’t been playing, and Slytherin had. That had left Kenneth free and the couch untenanted. It hadn’t been their first tryst there and, at the time, she’d hoped it wouldn’t be their last. Sipping her illegal but easily acquired firewhiskey, Carine smiled wistfully at the memory.

She had coaxed him under the bleachers the first time, and had to every time afterward, too. He said it seemed a little tawdry and wanted to find a quiet spot somewhere a little more romantic.

Romance hadn’t really been her aim. He was handsome and talented, vertically and horizontally, and best of all, he was considerate and kind. Even when they had to be quick, he was gentle. He had seemed so much more mature than the rest of the slavering horde. She’d looked forward to seeing him again in their seventh year and had even written him back when he’d sent an owl on her birthday.

_Then panic had set in … but why?_ She touched her lips to the glass and slowly closed her eyes. _Because he’s too much like Hamish, though they look nothing alike, and Kenneth wouldn’t hurt an insect. So how are they alike, just because they both play Quidditch? It was stupid, all of it. I ran away from a ghost into the arms of a beast._

“Another?” Aberforth, the gruff old bartender and owner asked.

Carine opened her eyes and nodded. It was hard believe he was the Headmaster’s brother. He had only gotten more scruffy and bedraggled over the years. He still smelled like he slept with his goats, too. She was relieved he continued to be grateful to her for helping care for sick goats off and on since her third year. How that translated to bringing the firewhiskey around, she had never asked. She’d stopped worrying about potential alternative motives that never materialized by her fifth year.

She watched him return to the bar and whisper to a veiled witch sitting there, but she couldn’t care if they were discussing her.

_If I hadn’t talked to Rowan, hadn’t followed my damn curiosity, I could be down in the Three Broomsticks with Kenneth this evening or hidden away in the Astronomy Tower, making the models ring. Instead I’m here – getting soused waiting for that bastard to show and probably killing Arelia with boredom._

When she was about to give up and go tell Arelia it was off, that they might as well head back up to the school, the door opened and the Potions master entered.

He spotted her immediately but went to the bar first. Carine stuck an inviting smile on her face as he turned, drink in hand, and headed her way. She wasn’t surprised that he ignored her gestured invitation to sit.

“You appear to be rather publicly cavalier with your choice of libation.”

“They’re used to me here. I’m glad you came. I was hoping you would.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to make up for my attitude. I got a suite and set up a surprise.”

“What in my nature gave you the impression I was fond of surprises?”

Carine took a sip of the whiskey to buy time to think. Abandoning the sweet sylph act, she let her lips assume a pout and allowed a glint of Slytherin craft into her eyes. “You’d like this one, sir.”

There were close to a dozen patrons in the bar, some of whom had their faces covered, as the regulars here often did. She would have to be careful, but in a sense, he was hamstrung in this place – unable to treat her as he might in private. Upstairs, Arelia’s presence would serve as a similar protection.

Emboldened by the thought, she stood and finished her drink in one gulp. She didn’t dare get too close but took a step toward him to speak softly. Then she crossed her arms under her breasts, making the cleavage there a tantalizing sight.

“I haven’t been what I should be to you. It’s time I started.”

“I suspect you are still enamored of the Seeker.”

“Maybe, but I made a choice and entered an agreement. I intend to honor it now.” She pressed the metal room key into his hand quickly. Tossing a coquettish smirk at him, she turned and headed up the stairs without looking back.

Using her wand to enter the room, she found Arelia half asleep on the bed with her fingers in her open jeans. Suppressing a smile, she woke her and told her Snape was heading up.

“You’re sure?” the girl asked, brushing her dark hair off her shoulder.

“I didn’t stop to look, but I had some good bait set out. If he’s human at all, he’ll bite.” Rushing her friend into the bathroom, she started to close the door on her. “Get out of the clothes. When I say the code word, make a good entrance. Sexy. Got it?”

She closed the door before Arelia could answer. The bag of Honeydukes candy was still on the bed, and a red quill lay on the floor. She scooped both items up and put them on a nightstand.

Ditching her coat and shoes quickly, she stripped and left her clothes in a pile on her shoes. A quick flick of her wand and a mumbled charm started a fire in the small hearth as she slipped into the covers. Leaving the candles lit around the room, she put her wand next to the quill. Seconds later, she heard the key in the lock.

He entered looking wary. Carine wondered what sort of phantoms he thought she might have conjured, and did he seriously think she would dare to set him up? She had, of course, but not in a way most men would mind.

“Did you choose the number thirteen suite for a particular purpose?” He asked, closing and locking the door behind him. He set the key on the desk by the door.

“No.” She sat up against the pillows, letting the covers fall strategically to her waist. “You did ask me if there was anything else I required to get over my melancholy.”

“As I recall, you said no. Are you recanting now?”

“No, sir – but I hoped you would come up. I wanted…” She let her voice trail off as if she were abruptly shy. It was for Arelia’s benefit.

She’d have to juggle this just right and not allow Arelia to figure out that this wasn’t her first round with Snape. Yet if she sprang her friend on him too soon, he’d probably just leave, since he’d made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her again.

When she saw the smolder of lust in his dark eyes, she wanted to cringe and cheer at once. Unable to do either, she just pasted on her most wicked come-hither smile and tried to keep still as he approached the bed.

He spoke his Unfastening Charm in a whisper and began to remove the many layers of his formal black clothing. Carine had never had the chance to watch him strip before. In spite of all he’d put her through, she couldn’t help staring at him. If his treatment was the fabric of her nightmares, his body had the sculpted beauty of her most erotic dreams.

Carine knew better than to bring Arelia in while he was standing there, so she had to bury her emotional distaste and fear, waiting until he lay down beside her.

She twitched when his hand stroked down her body and inserted two fingers inside her without warning.

“Where is this surprise hidden?” he whispered in her ear.

“In the bathroom.”

On cue, the narrow door opened and Arelia stood in the bathroom doorway. Snape had whipped around to face the door, his wand in his hand before Carine even saw him move. Whatever he had feared to see, he obviously hadn’t expected it to be the willowy naked beauty of the tall brunette.

“Hello, Severus. Remember when I said Carine and I share everything?”

“I’m sorry,” Carine said when he turned to stare at her. “I was nervous to be with you alone, at least the first time.”

*******************************  
**Severus**  
*******************************

_The first time._ Severus glared at the conniving blonde. She’d engineered it brilliantly – setting off the trap in a way that left him with few options. He considered what the equivalent might be to gnawing himself free.

Arelia Galen moved into the room and around the bed, a ghost of soft sexual beauty. Drawing the covers down, she settled on his other side, her hands caressing up his back. He tried to suppress a shudder, but she felt it and smiled.

“This is – unprecedented,” he whispered to the ceiling.

“Trust you to use long words when beset in a bedroom by a pair of girls,” Arelia teased. “Most men would forget their own names.”

_Leave. Get up, dress, and leave. Simple. Flay them with some acrid cutting retort and escape with your sanity intact, fool._

He didn’t move. The long day spent with the idiot Hayden, making him suffer for his disobedient insolence in the way the boy hated most – doing honest work – had been only mildly amusing. The frustrated desire of the last night had not left him or given him any peace since.

Now these supple bodies touched and toyed with him at once, firing his need into something almost painful. The release they offered didn’t have to threaten him – if he took them brusquely and without sentiment. If the delicate Galen was offended, she was welcome to leave.

Lachlan gently nudged him to turn onto his back and traced her lips down his body. Galen moved to kiss him and he allowed it, feeling the sensations produced by the other girl like a drug.

_Strange that something once abhorrent could transfigure itself into the only act that assures me that I am alive at all. _A whisper of memory tugged at him, a long-abandoned ideal of warmth, trust, and soul-mending love. Yet she never did love – he’d been a convenience, hadn’t he? _No. Bury it deep, beyond the loam, the crust of roots. It’s not real – it’s gone… dead… as she is. All that remains is this soulless coupling, the dust of what you once knew._

He turned reflexively to the slender brunette, pinned her and took her. She was ready, receptive and eager. Severus kept his eyes locked on hers as he drove inside her and saw only an avid lust reflected there.

Lachlan lay beside her and when he leaned back, the blonde kissed her. Galen hesitated only for a moment before responding. Fearlessly, the blonde caught his hand and covered her own breasts with it as she kissed her friend ardently. The sight of it was hardly a shock given his experience – but it was inspiring.

Severus waited until Galen had clutched at him and cried out more than once. Lachlan lay next to them, kissing the other girl’s shoulder and failing to watch him. His habitual sneer stretched to an unpleasant smile.

Withdrawing from Galen quickly, he fell on Lachlan and was rewarded with a shock of fear in her emerald eyes. She tried too late to hide it.

_So the new leaf is easily turned again – intriguing. Did you set this up for her or for some other unintelligible agenda of your own? Is she a leash around my neck, her presence making you safe?_

Then he thought of what Galen had said when she assumed he had called out Lachlan’s name. He couldn’t resist a low chuckle. It might be worthwhile to see if such a charade could sway her. It might also be the only way to endure those eyes, so like another’s.

Laying his hands on either side of her face, Severus made his thrusts gentler. He changed his angle slightly and brought his skills of pleasuring a woman into play. He wished he hadn’t relinquished his wand again, but though he was unable to use Legilimency against her, there were other ways.

“Carine,” he whispered, as if the sun rose with the name. He saw her fear fall into confusion. Keeping his motions gentle and seductive, he lost count of the times he made her climax before his own stopped the experiment.

When he rolled away from her, he fell to the far side instead of between them. Propping himself up on his elbow, he watched them in silence.

Galen reached out to touch his forearm, her own lying gently over Lachlan’s chest. “What are you thinking, Severus?”

“That I am no longer twenty … and it’s a shame.”

“Ten years makes such a difference?” she asked, smiling.

“Not the years – the wear and tear.” He took her hand and tugged at it, inducing her to move over the silent blonde. “You could oblige me in the meantime, if you aren’t opposed to more than a kiss.”

Inexplicably, she whispered to Lachlan, “Ganders, huh?” The blonde nodded with a slight smile. Tears clung to her long lashes. To both of them, Galen said, “I’m new to this, so no grading me.”

Severus watched the seashell pink lips suckle the blonde’s nipples inexpertly. When her hand slid haltingly down the lightly tanned stomach, he flicked the blankets away from the sight. Her fingers were more practiced than her mouth, but the awkwardness of touching another that way was obvious.

Glancing up at Lachlan, he found her staring at him, a tearful question in her eyes. The expression pulled at him, making him slightly nervous, and threatening the lascivious mood. She reached out and touched his face.

To avoid the look, he moved closer and kissed her. His hand joined Galen’s, laced their fingers together, and showed her how to draw her friend to the edge of madness with pleasure.

Helpless between them, her cries stifled by his mouth, Lachlan writhed and it wasn’t long before he could mount her again. Giving Galen his mouth and his fingers, he took his pleasure amidst a chorus of soft sounds and cries.

The dual nature of them helped to keep the past at bay. Too many hands, too many urgent lips, stunted the memories. He was neither kind nor cruel, and somewhere between those points he found a strange balance.

Midnight arrived and slipped by, yet all thoughts of escape had long since left him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the details I changed involved Aberforth Dumbledore in the pub, letting Carine have firewhiskey. Way back when I first wrote this, I had no idea the owner and bartender of the Hog’s Head was Albus Dumbledore’s brother, also a member of the Order of the Phoenix. So I changed a few bits and had him grateful for her help with sick goats (a skill she got from helping Hagrid with his creatures). It reads a lot better this way, trust me, LOL. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic) (anongrimm.tumblr.com)


	9. Rumors

*******************************  
**Arelia**  
*******************************

“Stop right there, you miscreants!”

The two second year boys Arelia had brought to a screeching halt were perfectly identical, from their shock of ginger hair to the very last freckle splashed across their expressions of sublime innocence. She had given up trying to tell them apart halfway through their first year. Besides, where one went the other followed, so she had found it simpler to catch them both and punish their wrongs as if they were one person.

“Hi, Arelia. Hey, do you like the N.E.W.T. classes? Are they fun?”

“I didn’t stop you to chat, kid. Do either of you know what time it is?”

“Lose your watch?” one of them joked.

Smiling and helpful, the other replied, “It’s just after eleven o’clock.”

“Which is after curfew.” She tapped her boot on the stones.

“Oh, well, of course it is. We were –”

“– Looking for a bathroom, and –”

“– We heard the prefect’s bath was on this level.”

Arelia fought down a smile. Their habit of sharing sentences had helped her in her decision to behave as if the two were one. “You aren’t allowed in the prefect’s bathroom, and you’ve already passed three public ones to get here. Now get back to Gryffindor Tower – and into bed.”

“We should tell her, Fred.”

“Sure, George.”

“We’re working on a project for History of Magic: an essay, on the Room of Requirement. So we’re looking for it. One of the fifth years said you have to look after dark.”

“You’re on the incorrect floor and in the wrong area.”

“Doesn’t it move around the castle?”

“No, it stays put; only the contents and appearance changes. Nice try, though. Now, get to bed.”

Arelia watched them shrug and turn about. Not fooled, she followed them to their common room. One of them, possibly Fred, had slipped a thick folded parchment into his pocket when she had gotten them moving. It wasn’t the first time they’d palmed this same old parchment.

Tired and suffering from a lack of curiosity, she didn’t ask to see it. Let them have their secrets and games. The Weasley twins were brilliant schemers but largely harmless to the school and populace.

The Hufflepuffs who always experimented with new desserts and shared their best efforts at dinner had outdone themselves that night and dealing with all the sugar-hyped younger students had her worn out. A vague thought of going down to the dungeons and seeing if Snape would let her into his chambers came and went on the tail of a yawn.

Turning to Ravenclaw Tower, she headed up to bed at last, unable to care if the twins remained in their tower or not.

As she drifted off to sleep that night, she thought of Carine. Her friend had begun hitting the books with a vengeance, under the watchful eye of Professors McGonagall and Falchion. Professor Flitwick had asked her if they had a competition going for best grades.

Arelia didn’t know why Carine was abruptly so studious. She had half expected the girl to be even more distracted, after ‘landing Snape’ as she insisted on calling it.

_The most confusing enigmatic girl in the world…_

~ ~ ~

Another Quidditch Saturday came and went. Arelia watched it, but the real sport was after the game, spent under the bleachers with Xander. A traitor to her house, she helped him celebrate Hufflepuff’s victory over Ravenclaw.

Her jeans were unbuttoned, invaded by his strong hand. He didn’t have Snape’s talent, but he wasn’t boring either. His other hand massaged her bra as they kissed, while she explored as much of his chiseled strength as her hands could touch while prone on her back.

Xander kissed her closed eyelids and whispered, “Do you want me to stop?” When she chuckled, he added, “Not just now – but you know … not go any further?”

She stared into his dark blue eyes. Snape had suggested him as a candidate to claim the bet with, hadn’t he? Even though the Potions master was his superior in skill, he’d managed to excite her beyond stopping. “Xander, I want to ask you if … you’d be my first.”

He started to speak and then fell silent, looking away from her. His fingers went still. When he turned back, his slight smile was wistful. “I wanted to talk to you about that, but I didn’t see a gentlemanly way to start.”

“If you’re worried about going public and dealing with Beldon and his stupid bet, don’t be. I can handle him.”

“Actually, I wanted to bring up a subject that may make you angry.”

“What is it?”

“I’ve been with virgins once or twice, Arelia. I don’t think you are.”

“And?” Her smile started to transform into a frown.

“It’s your business, understand. It’s fine with me, either way, but I have this thing about honesty – it’s valued very highly in my family. I just wondered why you thought you had to pretend?”

Surprised, she thought about it. “I’m not sure. I guess because of the bet, partly … and because I can’t say who won it.”

“Fair enough.”

“So … I’d like to. You?”

He almost smiled, but then he moved away from her, sitting up and turning to look at her as she struggled up out of the couch beside him. “I was sort of hoping to ask you out first.”

“You did, twice. I said yes both times and we’re waiting for the next Hogsmeade weekend to consummate the date, aren’t we? ‘Coffee or something’ was your phrase. How quickly they forget.” She smiled.

“No, I mean – ask you to be my girl.” He raised his hand and stroked wayward hairs back in place at the side of her face.

“Oh.”

“I just wanted… I think you deserve to be treated right and I intend to.”

“Xander, I don’t want anything like that. I’d like to be with you, but I don’t want to be exclusive with anyone.”

He leaned back and stared up at the criss-crossing wooden beams overhead. “I was hoping for more than that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. You don’t want that, it’s fine.”

Arelia moved and straddled his lap, sliding her fingers around his neck. She kissed him, and felt only a muted response. “You’re forgetting what I did want.”

He remained still beneath her, thoughtful, and not into it now. “Arelia, I’m sorry if this upsets you, but I don’t think I can do this – casually.”

She sat back on his thighs and stared at him. “You aren’t a virgin and you aren’t married. That classifies your previous experience as ‘casual’.”

“When I was young and stupid, I guess, but ever since last year, I’ve changed. Now I want more. I want a steady girlfriend and I want to make her my wife.”

“Then I guess we can’t compromise.” With a sigh, she got up off him and stood to retrieve her shirt. Buttoning her jeans, she asked, “What changed your wastrel ways?”

“I fell in love.”

She looked up at him sharply. He held her gaze, sitting on the couch like a disheveled shirtless Adonis. His blond hair was still damp from a fast shower after the game before he’d met her here at her request.

“I – I should go,” she whispered. Arelia fled, taking the stairs two at a time.

~ ~ ~

She took out her upset on the Weasley twins that night after curfew and caught them unexpectedly enough to get a better look at the parchment they were always fussing over. It was a map. After a strict lecture, she steered the topic back to it.

“That looks suspiciously inappropriate for second years. What is it and where did you get it?”

“We wrote it,” they chimed together.

Arelia frowned. She didn’t believe that for a moment. It was obviously magical and likely beyond their current skill level. “Why are you down in the dungeons with it?”

“Studying up for our essay.”

“Not on the Room of Requirement,” one of them amended at her glare, “on the castle itself. Secret passages. There’s one right here, but it’s not mentioned anywhere in ‘Hogwarts, A History’, so we’re researching it.”

“This is a hallway.” She was starting to lose her patience.

“Looks like one, maybe.”

“There is a secret passage here.”

“It goes from there,” Fred or George pointed at one wall, “to there.” His finger moved to point at the opposite wall. “If you stand here when it’s actually working, you can feel the magic it generates.”

“I don’t feel anything. I think this is a story, not a secret passage.”

“That’s because it’s not working now. It was when we first came down here, though.”

Arelia turned them around and pointed up the stairs. “Count your blessings that I caught you and not Marcus – or even Professor Snape. Go back to bed and stay there!” She stood where she was and watched them go up the stairs, arguing all the way.

“Why didn’t you say she was there?”

“Didn’t see her, I was watching Snape. It worked just like before. He crosses the hall, even while we’re looking at it – but he’s not there. You didn’t see him. I’m telling you, Fred, we’ve got to crack this one. If Snape’s doing something shady, it’s our Gryffindor duty to figure it out.”

“It only goes into the Slytherin common room. How shady can that be? He’s their Head of House.”

Arelia stood in the center of the hall for a long moment after the twins were gone. She’d been so stunned by what they had said that she completely forgot about their odd map.

Arms crossed and frowning, she looked at the spot where the boy had pointed first. Snape’s private chambers were hidden behind that wall – a fact that, as Gryffindors, they wouldn’t know.

*******************************  
**Carine**  
*******************************

She clung to him and gasped. It was hard to breathe but it felt so good, she didn’t care if she passed out. His cry at her ear thrilled her further, that she could drive him to such limits of feeling.

When he went still, he moved away from her as quickly as he always did, but he allowed her to creep close and lie beside him.

Carine didn’t understand what was going on with him. He still refused to allow her to use his given name, but now and then he would call her ‘Carine’ in a way that made her excited and afraid at once. Even then, he wasn’t necessarily nice. It was more like an absence of cruelty than any concession of kindness.

She had expected him to retaliate somehow for her presumption at the Hog’s Head, but he hadn’t. A nagging worry added, _Yet, he hasn’t paid you back yet. Drop your guard, and he’ll have you._ She swallowed back a sigh. _What guard? I’m his. There’s nothing to drop._

The difficult part, if such a determination could be made in her situation, was that she couldn’t forget about Kenneth, and sometimes she was sure that Snape knew it. The notion that it displeased him wasn’t hard to guess, either.

T_his won’t last forever. When school ends in June, it’s done. I’ll be free to be with Kenneth if I want._ She lay quietly for a time before the old nagging question seeped into her attempt to act calm. _Will he wait that long?_

Snape’s acidic voice interrupted her thoughts. “Why is Professor Falchion so concerned with your emotional condition, Miss Lachlan?”

“I don’t know, sir. She never says much to me.”

He grunted, reached for his wand beside him, and rolled her unceremoniously onto her stomach. Carine bit her lip. He never really hurt her, even when he wanted it in this position, but it wasn’t the easiest way to engage in sex for her, physically or emotionally. His weight came down over her back and she started to open her thighs to him.

“Be still,” he said in her ear. Holding the wand, he spoke a word of magic she didn’t catch as his fingertips brushed lightly over her rear.

An unreasoning fear griped her when she realized what he meant to do. Her earlier worry about paybacks leaped into her mind. “I’m sorry I set you up, sir, but you seemed to enjoy it.”

“I did, as I intend to enjoy this. Don’t be foolish. If you aren’t experienced this way, I assure you it won’t hurt. It can’t, now.”

He didn’t need lube – the spell he’d cast clearly included prep. Somehow, that made it worse and a roaring sound began to fill her ears, her head.

She cried out when his cock entered the tight opening he’d never wanted before. It was a shock, and for the first moments as he pressed himself in, her mind convinced her that it would hurt intensely. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she tried to endure it stoically, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was hurting her. For a confusing moment, she thought she smelled peppermint, but the only scent around her was the subtle Sandalwood of Snape’s skin.

“Calm yourself,” he whispered. “There is no pain.”

After a few minutes, she realized he was telling the truth – the charm he’d cast wasn’t allowing the act to hurt her. The phantom pain disappeared.

Whatever the charm was, she wished she’d known it years ago. Her muscles relaxed slowly, making his movements easier to take. The slightest pleasurable thrum began deep inside that she never would have believed possible, but was still difficult to relax her tense thoughts and her mind was filled with the images of rosebuds, shot through with the rising smell of blood.

The smooth black wood of the wand appeared in her line of sight, held firmly in Snape’s pale hand. Carine had assumed he’d dropped it beside them again. When she realized it was pointed at her temple, she drew in her breath sharply and attempted to empty her thoughts.

He leaned in, his voice a whisper at her ear as his body continued to move over her and in her. “What is the meaning of the roses?”

~ ~ ~

Carine woke sluggishly on Sunday morning and ran a hot bath. Snape had left sometime in the night, after she had fallen asleep on him. She was still shocked that he had made her like it that way – she had kicked many males out of bed in the past for even trying it.

_I remember when I asked Kenneth if he liked that. The surprise on his face was so funny. _Pure gentleman, he had asked if she did first, and then agreed with her on not being into it. She had wondered if he was pretending to know what she meant and had to ask one of the guys later. _Pure vanilla, that boy._ She sighed. _Pure heaven._ Another concern of the previous night soon intruded on her savored memories, inspiring a frustrated frown. _You can’t ask him to keep the wand out of it. Figure something else out._

She didn’t get out of the room until lunch, when she went up to meet Arelia. They ate at their respective tables quickly and then went out for a walk around the castle grounds.

The day was cold, and they were bundled in coats and long school scarves. The wind cut right through their jeans. Going through the courtyard and down to the lake, they began strolling around its edge.

“How’s Severus?” Arelia asked.

“That would be ‘Sir’ to me,” Carine said, but she smiled to take the sting out it.

“What do you mean?” Arelia stopped and studied her.

_Shit._ “Just kidding,” she answered quickly. “He was in a mood last night, that’s all, and I’m not that comfortable calling him Severus. Yet,” she added lamely. “So! Tell me about Farmer Hufflepuff and his fall from grace.”

“Xander, and it wasn’t a fall.”

“Well, no, good point – when under the bleachers, it’s traditionally called ‘a tumble’.” She grinned, but her friend wasn’t amused. _At least I got her off the subject of Snape. The Hufflepuff chats aren’t my favorite, but hey – any port in a storm._

“He says he loves me; although he doesn’t want to engage in sexual romps unless I’m his, because it’s ‘casual’. That’s about it.”

Carine didn’t bother to hide her surprise. “What epoch did he come from? Boys love casual.”

Arelia shrugged. “I heard that he does have a reputation for keeping to one girl at a time, but I don’t think I see the point. I don’t mind being one of, but to have only one? Well, you always said it was boring. I think I agree.”

“You’ve only had one, and a half, I guess.” She smirked at the haughty look the brunette gave her. “I hate to sound like a repeat Howler, but ditch the Hufflepuff. Look around, shop, experiment.”

“Here? That still leaves me with boys, which you claim are a waste of time.”

Carine winked at her. “Rumor has it, there’s this whole town at the bottom of the hill. People live there, men and everything!”

“Ha ha. Come on, comedian. It’s freezing out here. What do you say to a game of Wizard’s Chess in the Great Hall, with some hot tea?”

Carine walked beside her back toward the castle, but she didn’t really feel like returning. “Hey, why don’t we visit Hagrid? He’s got tea.”

“The Groundskeeper? Why?”

“Oh, he’s great. If you haven’t officially met him, you have to.”

“Since when did you get friendly with him?”

“I’ve been talking to him since third year. He’s harmless, I promise; he just looks scary. Come on.” She turned toward Hagrid’s hut and Arelia came after her.

Smoke puffed from the chimney and the lights shone warm from the window. As she walked across the thin layer of snow down the hill, she realized that Hagrid’s hut had come to symbolize safety to her – and peace.

Maybe they both needed some of that right now, and Hagrid, who never had many visitors or friends among the students, would love the company.

*******************************  
**Severus**  
*******************************

“No elaborations, no personal opinions.” Severus pinned Marcus with a cold stare. “Merely what is known.”

The young man sat still in the visitor chair of the Potions master’s office; he knew fidgeting annoyed his Head of House. His nervousness still showed in his habit of running his fingers through the perfect cut of his black hair, but it was less distracting.

“Well, sir, most of it is still rumor, but what I know is that Lachlan used to be shy when we first started school. She didn’t get – friendly – until sometime in our fifth year. She was going with the upper classmen, seventh years only. Last year, she started seeing the Ravenclaw Seeker, Shaw. As far as I know, once she got with him, she stopped giving it up to anyone else.”

“There was no significant liaison in her third year?”

“No, sir. When her cousin Ketch was here, he kept a close eye on her. Did you know that?” He paused, and when Severus nodded once, he continued. “He used to say that he’d get anyone who touched her. I know her family – they’re pure-bloods – and they’ve got a lot of old traditions, like saving yourself for marriage and crap like that. We miss Ketch and all, sir, but most Slytherins figure it’s been sweet since Lachlan put herself on the dormitory market.”

“You assume she behaved out of family loyalty or obedience to Ketch?”

“Fear of Ketch, maybe. They didn’t get along.”

“Neither do you.”

“She and I didn’t start out as friends, no sir. I was planning to change that this year – but of course…” His hand swept through his hair again, the dark amber eyes looking away from his teacher.

“Of course,” Severus sneered. “That will be all, Marcus, but I want you to keep an eye on her – all of you.”

He stood. “Are you concerned about Shaw, sir?”

“No, and you are to continue to refrain from brute squad activities. There seems to be another matter at hand – Professor Falchion has become unusually interested in Miss Lachlan. If any of you have the opportunity to discuss the girl with her, I want to know what she asks you.”

“Are we cooperating with her, sir?”

“We are not. Tell her you know nothing.”

“Yes, sir.” He turned and left.

Severus rose and went to the heavy wooden cabinet that held his student records. Pulling the thick folder on Hamish Ketch, he laid it on his desk. Papers to be graded were forgotten as he reviewed the file.

Most of it was disciplinary reports, from every teacher but himself, and for every offense a student could commit. Ketch had been gifted in one area only – Quidditch. Destined for fame and fortune in the sport, he hadn’t cared about his regular studies at all.

If the boy could be said to have a hobby, it was the leadership of the unofficial Slytherin brute squad, a faction which had had its inception in his second year. He had already achieved an impressive size the summer before and won a place on the house team as a Beater the moment school had started – with the new Potions master’s blessing, of course.

Ketch had never graduated, nor had he become a rising sports star for any national team. The last report in his file was from the Ministry of Magic, detailing an investigation of the young man’s death and making much of his alleged dabbling in the Dark Arts. The cause of death was listed officially as an accident with a spell – one of the forbidden curses.

At the bottom of the last page was the name of the person who had contacted the authorities to report the accident – Carine Lachlan.

~ ~ ~

Severus watched her as he flipped his wand between the fingers of his right hand. The classroom was never quiet – sounds of chopping ingredients and bubbling cauldrons surrounded them – but he tuned it all out as he studied the blonde in the front row.

She avoided his gaze, her attempts to complete her potion hampered by shaking fingers. When he spoke to instruct them to finish up before the bell, she twitched.

“Remain a moment, if you would, Miss Lachlan,” he announced as the bell rang.

Shaw was the last to leave and Severus noted his frown as he ducked out of the room.

_Has he heard enough rumors to piece together the truth of his former lover’s new role? Is it possible that the Slytherin Tutor isn’t just a Slytherin rumor after all?_

Lachlan had gathered her things but sat quietly in her chair. Severus leaned against the front of his desk, crossing his arms over his chest. The wand went still in his hand.

“I wish to discuss a sensitive subject. Look at me, Miss Lachlan.” As her eyes rose to meet his, he asked, “What do you know of the Dark Arts?”

“Just what we’ve learned in class – to fight them, I mean.”

“Your cousin Ketch was practicing several illegal spells. He didn’t happen to teach you?”

“No, sir.”

He stared at her for a long moment of silence. The door opened, but the first students of his next class paused when they saw them.

Severus turned away from her slowly. “Come to my office after the evening meal, Miss Lachlan. We will continue this conversation.”

“Yes, sir.” She ducked out quick, avoiding eye contact with the other students as they began to enter.

Standing behind his podium, Severus watched her go. _She’s lying. Yet someone has taught her the rudiments of Occlumency. Her grasp of it is imperfect and will be easy enough to break, but why would she need it at all? It is not a discipline to take on lightly or a simple one to learn – therefore, the few who try tend to have a specific need for it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those unaware, Occlumency is shielding one’s mind from Legilimency, which is the art of magically getting into the mind of another person and correctly interpreting what is found there. Severus Snape is a master of both skills and he can cast many spells non-verbally. We’re getting to the point where this story starts diverging. I love a good mystery. I also love my OFC girls, but the boys are soon to show up more, too. I ended up adoring these students as they fell out of my brain – I hope you all like them, too. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic) (anongrimm.tumblr.com)


	10. In Winter's Grip

*******************************  
**Arelia**  
*******************************

“Where did you learn Occlumency?” Arelia couldn’t hide her surprise.

“Kenneth taught me, last year,” Carine muttered.

“How does he know it?”

“From his father, I think. Why does that matter? The point is, Snape keeps trying to pry and I’m not that good at blocking him.”

“Why would he want to use Legilimency on you?”

“He’s short of amusements this year? Look, it doesn’t matter. I just need you to ask Kenneth if he’d give me a refresher. I can meet him over the Christmas holidays. Will you ask him?”

“Yes, don’t worry.” Arelia sighed and linked her arm in Carine’s as they walked back up to the castle. “Would you tell me one thing?”

“What?”

“Why does Professor Falchion keep asking our friends about your cousin?”

“Maybe she’s just trying to sort out what happened to him – Auror crap.”

“I don’t like it. She acts like she suspects you in some cover-up. Severus wouldn’t be helping her, would he – by spying on you?”

“Uh, no. Have you noticed they hate each other’s pink steaming guts? He wouldn’t piss on her if she was on fire. Look, you aren’t from a pure-blood family – I am and she is. Sometimes the old families don’t get along; ours never have. She could be trying to drum up scandal to hurt my parents’ chances of advancing in the Ministry. Wizards aren’t above petty shit like that. You and I, a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin being friends, we’re a novelty. Most of the time it’s frame or be framed in that combo.”

~ ~ ~

Arelia thought about Carine’s words a lot after she went home for the Christmas holidays. She had already spotted a fellow Hogwarts student in Bristol, and after having her owl Rhiannon follow him to his home, she made a plan to encounter Decker Marcus and see if she could strike up an enlightening conversation.

In the meantime, she kept Rhiannon busy flying letters to and from London. Carine insisted that she was doing well, but she wouldn’t comment on whether or not she had met with Kenneth yet for extensive Occlumency lessons.

Her last letter had been more to the point, expressing her hope that Carine was finding time to do more than take lessons with the handsome Seeker, but it had been the wrong thing to say, apparently. Carine’s replies had become shorter and less personal ever since. It left Arelia feeling helpless and angry at once.

She was just refolding the most recent chilly one-paragraph note while out shopping in town, when she spotted the black-haired Marcus across the street. Handing Rhiannon a treat, she sent her friend off to relax and headed over to the fancy sidewalk café.

The Slytherin prefect was lounging alone at a table, dressed in warm and very rich clothing that was ostentatious for the Muggle and Wizarding Worlds alike. The cloak clasp being employed as a decoration on the silver silk tie at his pale throat sported a massive yellow diamond, held between the mouths of two silver snakes. His suit was clearly bespoke yet it had probably not been touched by Muggle hands. The array of greens, white, and silver in the ensemble both enhanced and framed his handsome features and tall athletic form. His long black hair was loose around his face and passers-by all stared – with either envy or admiration.

Yet Arelia could match him easily in a regal midnight blue velvet dress and white mink coat. She met his amber eyes with an equally haughty stare. Inwardly, she couldn’t help a chuckle. _We both look like we escaped from some Dickens Christmas play. Game face on, though – this is social Wizard’s Chess and he’s a master at it._

“Miss Galen.” He rose and bowed slightly, keeping his eyes on her at all times. “Would you join me for coffee – or a glass of mulled wine?”

“Thank you, Mr. Marcus.” She let him hold her chair for her, hiding her surprise at his grasp of manners. “I heard you were here. How was your Christmas?”

“It was brilliant, fraught with material goods – and yours?” he asked, as he reclaimed his chair. He sat up straighter now than his earlier indolent lounge and she wondered if that was due to interest in and curiosity about her company or a calculated move on the metaphorical board between them.

“Fine, thank you, and coffee would be lovely.”

When the waiter appeared, he gave the man her order – politely, she noticed. Her grandmother, a queen of etiquette, had always told her that the mark of a true gentleman – or an utter cad – was how he treats the waiter.

_You can’t seriously categorize Decker Marcus as a gentleman,_ she chastised herself. _You’ve seen how he acts at school. It’s likely just another chess move._

“I appreciate the company – it’s been a rather dull morning,” he told her, his tone dipping into that bored priviledge register she was accustomed to.

“Do you live here or is your family visiting?” She kept her tone light, impersonal – but she knew he realized she wanted something. They had been destined to be enemies by their choice of friends, years ago.

“We live here – the whole Marcus clan, in fact.” The coffee arrived and he sipped his mulled wine as he watched her add cream. “Heard from Miss Lachlan over the holidays?”

“Yes, she’s doing well.” _How can I get this viper to tell me Slytherin secrets? Carine is hiding something … and it’s hurting her. Marcus is a prefect and one of Snape’s favorites, so anything worth knowing, he could tell – but he won’t trust me. _“She’ll be home in a few days, after a trip to Ireland with her parents.”

“Visiting the Shaw family, I expect; they live in Dublin – and Mr. Shaw is rich, too.”

“That has something to do with the visit?”

“It does, but you’re new to all the politicking in the Wizarding World, so I’m not surprised you don’t know.”

“Educate me, then,” she invited, raising her chin slightly. She had been told it gave her an unattainable air, intended to lure him in. Marcus smiled, flashing perfect teeth. He knew how to use his looks as a weapon, too. Carine had told her it was an art form for a handsome Slytherin. _He’s still taking the bait._

“Lachlan’s parents are in a position to sway the vote on a law Mr. Shaw wants passed. They are also pure-bloods out to find a rich suitor for their little girl. Rumor has it, the young Carine is already friends with the son of Ireland’s richest wizard. Perhaps an agreement is being struck even as we speak.”

“She hasn’t mentioned it to me.” It took all of her chess skill to maintain an expression of mild cool annoyance. Inside, her sense of how close she and her friend used to be was tilting – sliding – downward.

“Of course not. It’s not her place to talk about things like that. Me, I think you deserve to know the truth – since you care for her so much.”

The fingers of his right hand tapped the table as he studied her. Abruptly, she couldn’t care if it was a tell or a lure. He knew what she needed to understand, about this arranged marriage nonsense and maybe a lot more.

Arelia reached across the space between them and covered his fingers with hers. “There’s a lot I’d like to know, that she won’t tell me – about many things … but you could.” Her smile hinted at promises … and possibilities.

“Still out to break Beldon’s bet? I don’t need the prize money.”

She had expected his mannered veneer to crack and didn’t react to it. His move to attempt to startle her by crassly bringing up the old bet barely registered at all. She knew how to talk to Slytherins by now. “I’d rather break Beldon. He doesn’t deserve to win, and if I graduate a virgin, he will. Care to lend – a hand?” She ran her thumb over his fingers before releasing them.

“And you want secrets in return? I don’t care about Lachlan’s, but I won’t betray my house.”

“I’d never ask you to. I just want to know about Carine. Anything else you could teach me would be … appreciated. We could meet this evening, at the Brigstow on the riverside.”

He shook his head briefly but a small smile of satisfaction remained. “I don’t go in there unless I’ve lost a bet. It’s a Muggle place. Meet me at the Thistle, on Broad Street, in the lobby at seven.”

Arelia met and held his gaze. “I’ll be there.”

With a curt nod, he relaxed and gave her a charming and inviting smile instead. “Alas, I must cut this enlightening chance meeting short – I’m due to meet my mother and escort her to the shops. If you will pardon me?” He pointedly set enough money on the table to cover a feast, much less two drinks.

“Yes, certainly. Thank you for the coffee.”

Now that she had propositioned him, she watched appraisingly as he finished off his wine and rose to his feet. He almost preened under her attention and she couldn’t help letting out a small wicked smile at this game they were playing.

Marcus leaned down slightly, fingers poised on the table as he looked down at her. “Lachlan won’t like it – her best friend and her worst enemy. You should know that.”

“She’s been trying to push me into doing something since fourth year. She shouldn’t be picky about whom I choose to be with – and anyway, we needn’t tell her.”

His eyes narrowed. “If you want Beldon taken down, the whole school will know.”

Arelia hesitated. “Of course,” she said, sipping coffee to buy time. “I’ll just have to listen to her lecture about how horrid you are ... later.”

“Don’t forget to mention how talented – in case she wants to find out for herself someday – as a Lachlan or a Shaw.” He winked, gave her a gracious bow that was only slightly mocking, and left.

~ ~ ~

Arelia had spent most of her school grounds awareness of Decker Marcus disgusted at his swaggering attitude and hot-headed temper, though most of it had been rumor and Carine’s stories. That afternoon, the thrill of sparring with him had been peppered by odd glimpses into an utterly different person than he was at school.

By the time the snow had stopped falling outside the frosted window of the lavish hotel suite and her bedmate slipped away from her to lie at her side, she had changed her mind about him again.

In the lobby of the Thistle, he had made her feel like royalty. If it had been merely an act, she couldn’t care. He had taken her gloved hand and bowed low to kiss it in greeting, all while pressing an ornate brass key into her palm. He had wished her well and walked away and for a moment, confusion had stunned her. The key, as solid and exquisitely carved as the young man who had given it, had drawn her back to firm ground. The number 303 was etched onto it. Smiling, she had gone upstairs. The moment she entered the suite, he had aparated inside it with a florish of his coat as he’d sweep it off his shoulders. Then he had offered to take her coat – before he had slowly taken everything else she wore.

_He lacks the skill of years, but I think I’ve found a natural talent._ She was still replaying it all in her mind as they slowly got their breathing back under control. When he took her hand and kissed it again, rolling to his side to caress her body, she shivered with honest lust, tempered by regret. “I can’t stay, Decker. My parents will expect me home tonight.”

“Do they know you’re not a good little girl?” He lifted his head and met her gaze. Arelia tried to look confused but he wasn’t buying it – any more than Xander had. “Drop it, okay?” His smile was slow and possibly genuine instead of merely mocking. “So who did win the bet? It’s not supposed to be a secret. I got money on it myself.”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Was it Silas?”

“No. You’d never guess.”

He lifted himself on one elbow and met her eyes. “Snape.”

“What?”

He collapsed onto his back, laughing. “I should have known. That’s why you couldn’t announce it. Lachlan decided to share, huh?”

“Share what? She helped me with advice, yes.” Arelia frowned at him. “You can’t tell anyone. He’d turn us both into something hideous.”

“I’m a Slytherin, Arelia; I’m practiced at not telling on our sagacious Potions master. So – did you gang up on him? The old boy did seem a bit cheerier after last month’s Hogsmeade weekend. That must have been it.” She slapped his chest but he grabbed her and pulled her over him. “You did, didn’t you? Delicious. Though I’m grateful the pair of you didn’t kill the man – most of my friends would never pass Potions with a replacement professor.”

“I said nothing of the sort. What do you mean by share?”

He sighed, the amusement leaving him. “You wanted to know about her. Well, I wouldn’t have told you this, but since I’ve got something on you now, it should be safe enough. Snape took Lachlan off the market at the start of the year – ruined my plan to change her mind about me, too.”

Anger kindled. “What are you talking about?”

“She’s the Slytherin Tutor.”

“I know that. Professor Snape said so himself, it’s not a secret. She helps teach some of the struggling students.”

Marcus grinned at her. “He’s good – and you bought it.” He touched the frown on her lips. “The Slytherin Tutor is also called Teacher’s Pet. One girl is chosen every year for the dubious honor. Although,” he added thoughtfully, “I’ve heard enough of them claim he was worth putting up with. Erin even said he was better than me. Imagine!”

“They’ve been together from the start of the year?”

“‘Together’ isn’t the best way to describe it, from what I heard. Erin said he was as moody in bed as he is behind a podium. The Slytherin Tutor isn’t a girlfriend. She’s more like a concubine. If the girl is nasty-tempered, a real Slytherin, like Erin was, he’s nicer to them. I suspect because they don’t give a damn about anything he does. I heard Rowan was a real fawn last year, though, and fell in love with the bastard.” He shook his head. “Snape probably didn’t care for that much. He seems to like it impersonal – and he’s no gentleman.”

Arelia felt abruptly cold in the warm room. She avoided his attempts to resume their earlier play, got up, and quickly dressed. “Thank you for the enlightenment,” she spoke primly as she slipped into her boots and drew on the mink coat and white leather gloves. “I’ll see you at school.”

Marcus sat up against the padded headboard, displaying his perfect body. The white silk sheet barely covered his hips. “Don’t go away mad, Arelia. Is it my fault your friend lied to you?”

She turned, keeping her hand on the doorknob. “Do me a favor – claim the bet. I’ll vouch for you.”

He frowned. “No problem. Could be fun – but don’t blame me if I have to use my fists to convince your Hufflepuff it was your idea.”

Arelia’s expression and tone turned frosty. “Xander has no claim on my affections.”

The Slytherin’s smug face melted without warning into a mask of cunning. “Who are you hoping to upset then? Lachlan – or Snape?” His smile wasn’t nice. “Don’t waste your time on him, Arelia. Snape won’t care what you do or with whom. And I’d advise you to keep his secrets. He used to be a Death Eater – everyone knows that. Watch your step.” As she opened the door, he added, “You get him pissed at me, you’ll regret that too. Trust me.”

Arelia didn’t look at him as she left. She felt like she couldn’t breathe until the frigid night air surrounded her. A taxi pulled up to the curb and waited. Trying to calm her thoughts with her breathing, she opened the car door.

When she got home, her mother had waited up for her, asking about her date. Her responses were brief and distracted, and she excused herself as soon as she could. Upstairs, her bedroom seemed small – confining.

In the moonlight on the second pillow, she could almost see the memory of Carine sleeping there. Hadn’t she asked her what she thought of Snape then? Not the old teasing, but her honest opinion?

_I didn’t want to talk about him then, but what if I had? Would things be different?_

In the middle of shopping for their final year on Diagon Alley, Carine had led her off into Knockturn Alley, to meet with Snape. Her behavior in that bar had been outrageous. ‘My pleasure’, Snape had said, the low voice steeped with lust.

The image of Carine’s face in bed at the Hog’s Head haunted her. She’d looked confused, her eyes full of tears. At the time, Arelia had assumed being with Snape had merely overwhelmed her. Had there been an uglier reason for her tears?

“If you’ve hurt her,” she whispered to Snape’s memory, her fists clenching. She sank onto her bed. “Carine... Why didn’t you tell me?”

*******************************  
**Carine**  
*******************************

Her fingers wrapped around Kenneth’s as he held her on the balcony of his family’s library. Watching the white landscape as it darkened, she let out a longing sigh.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice at her ear. “The whole world in the grip of winter, white and clean...”

Carine turned and looked up into his light green eyes. He held her hands and kissed her chilled fingers. “We should get back to the lessons. I have to know this stuff – really be able to use it.”

He released her and followed her back inside to the pile of books on the long table between the rows of shelves. “You know what they’re talking about downstairs.”

“Yeah, I know. My parents have been eagerly awaiting the day when they could sell their political standards for the glory of the bloodline. I’m sure they steered the topic to trading my ‘marriage portion’ for a vote they don’t want in record time.” She sighed and then tried to smile. “Arranged marriages are so last century.”

“Seems a little archaic, I guess.” He sat and opened another book, avoiding her gaze.

“Pure-blood families always are.” She sat next to him and stared at his wand lying on the table. The wood was from a rowan tree, a regal thing, and inside it was the heartstring of a dragon. Tears rose in her eyes. “You shouldn’t agree.”

“What’s wrong?” He turned to her immediately, his strong hands firm on her shoulders.

“You could have better – you deserve better...” Her breath caught and the tears spilled.

Kenneth drew her into his arms. “Carine, no ... I love you. If you’re worried about that silly virgin bride tradition – I don’t care about that.”

_You will,_ she thought numbly, _and the more we go on with these Occlumency lessons, the more you’ll find out. Why is it so hard for me to block Legilimency? I have got to master this! If I don’t, I might not live to see Azkaban – if Snape finds out before that bitch Falchion._

She let him hold her and brush her tears away. He was so handsome and kind – and she loved him, too, though she had never told him. If her parents managed to seal their deal the way they hoped, she’d be affianced to him, with a wedding set for some distant fairytale day.

Would she be his wife before she had the courage to tell him the truth? That she’d let herself become another man’s whore? Even worse – she’d committed a sin that made that seem trifling.

_No. I’ll have to tell him. Or – let him see it. I’m barely able to keep him from those memories anyway. He should know, so that he can call off this nonsense and have a wife worthy of him, someone good, who had never..._

“Carine, look at me.” When she did, the love in his eyes made her want to cry again. “You’ve never told me why you want to learn this but I think I know, and it’s okay – I meant what I said. I don’t care about what you’ve done in the past or anything that’s going on now. If you think you could want me, that’s all I want.”

“What do you think you know? Tell me.”

“You aren’t – a maiden, to borrow another archaic term. You weren’t when we became lovers. I knew it then and it didn’t matter. I don’t feel like our parents do – I think we have to enter the new century, for heaven’s sake. If you feel badly about it, I can only say I’ll help you to forget, but it won’t stop me from wanting you as my wife.”

Carine sniffed. “That’s not all of it.”

“Snape.”

“Oh my God.” Her hands rose, her fingers covering her mouth. “How did you –?”

“Ketch told me in my second year. He was pretty proud of that gothic bastard, had a ball defending his rights to the girl who was the Tutor then. Do you remember her? Helena. We all had a crush on her; so did a lot of the upperclassmen. I watched one of the Gryffindors get beat by Ketch and four other Slytherins one afternoon. I was in Herbology and Professor Sprout kept telling me to hush when I tried to tell her about it. It was behind the greenhouses, in the exact spot that Hayden and the others cornered me.”

“Don’t...”

His hands fell from her shoulders. “What? Make trouble for him?” He frowned. “Someone should, and I’d love to.”

“Kenneth, no – I can’t do that. Please... Please let me handle it.”

“Is he cruel to you?” His stare searched her soul.

“No ... no, it’s not like that.” When he looked away, she crumpled. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I wanted – I had to make the others leave me alone. I knew if I was his, they couldn’t touch me.”

“I could have stopped any of them from bothering you, if you’d only told me they were. Slytherin doesn’t have all the big bruisers. I don’t understand you. I’d have done anything to help you – to protect you. I thought we were fine, last year, all last summer, too. Then you just stopped talking. When I asked you what was wrong and you wouldn’t say, I thought I’d angered you somehow. Then Hayden cleared things up, without a word. Until I got your message about meeting over Christmas, I thought you hated me.”

Carine reached out to touch him but hesitated. Her hands dropped to her lap. “I was afraid. I didn’t know what I wanted, and when I did, it was too late.”

He met her eyes again and she held her breath. “It’s not. You can stop it. I’ll help you.”

“No.”

“Damn it, Carine, why? What is it! Do you love him?”

“No!”

“Then why?”

She couldn’t speak. Kenneth rose from the table with clenched fists and paced in front of the fireplace. Carine hung her head.

The wind rose outside. When the heavy wooden doors leading out to the balcony were closed, she looked up.

Kenneth turned to face her. “Forget the rest and answer me. Do you want this match?”

“I – I want to be with you, but...”

“You want to solve your own problems. Slytherin business, right?” He came to her, took her hands and sat beside her. “I’ve never known a more aggravating person.” He took a deep breath. “I love you, more than sense, obviously – and if you’ll agree to marry me, you can have the rest of school to sort out whatever mess you refuse to tell me about, but if you need me, you have only to ask. Understand?”

Carine nodded, stunned.

“I hope you can learn to trust me. I don’t understand why you want to deal with this alone, but if I can help...”

“You are helping – by teaching me Occlumency.” She leaned close and melted into him when he held her again. “I wish I could tell you everything, but I’m afraid if I did, you wouldn’t want me.”

His chin rested on her head. “You’re a fool, you know that? I wouldn’t care if you told me you were a Death Eater, reformed or not.”

“If you see things, with the lessons –”

“I’m not digging for secrets. You’re pretty good at keeping ordinary memories at hand when I break through, and I’m a lot better at Occlumency than Legilimency. It’s a lot harder to learn.”

“When we get back to school...”

“You want to let them all think we’re still ex? I don’t like it, but if it’s what you want, okay.” He sighed and held her closer. “We can ask our parents not to announce anything yet … but you are going to be my wife, no backing out now.”

“As long as you want me, I will, yes.”

“I’m not changing my mind, Carine. I won’t promise not to imagine ways to murder Snape, but I’ll let you deal with it how you want. I’m going to prove to you what love can put up with. You might be surprised.”

“I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes. “I don’t mean to be difficult.”

“‘Difficult’? What a way to put it.” He kissed her forehead before she drew away to look up at him. “You’re asking me to let you go back to that Slytherin ghoul and not interfere, but...” He tilted her head up before she could lower it. “You’re worth a lot more trouble than that.”

“Maybe we should get back to work.” She wiped her eyes and sniffed. “Before I forget everything you taught me already.”

“You’re a genius, you’ll get it. Relax. Stressing over what you’re trying to conceal doesn’t help.”

Carine smiled a little, hoping it was going to be okay after all. “Some days, that’s pretty hard to avoid.”

“I know. I’ve let my grades suffer worrying over you. Quidditch I can do in my sleep – but Arithmancy’s another story.”

*******************************  
**Severus**  
*******************************

The hour crept closer to midnight as he pressed further into the forest. The trees were too thick here to permit the moonlight to shine through, leaving the snow a gray-blue mass in the unrelenting shadows.

“Professor?”

Severus turned and waited for his delinquents. The Slytherin members of the party were Falchion’s catch of the day, added to his when the former Auror had to make a meeting at the Ministry of Magic. Because most of them were members of his prize Quidditch team, the punishment detail had been changed. Unfortunately, it got Shaw and Silas out of the drudgery he had originally had in mind. Yet gathering potion ingredients was an eternal effort, and some of them available in this forest couldn’t be found in local Apothecaries.

Seven students of various ages emerged from the frigid mist, their burlap satchels full. Only two were females: a Hufflepuff who obviously worshipped Silas and a red-haired Slytherin in her sixth year. It was she who had hailed him.

“What is it, Miss Kistler?”

“Haurgaard got into the thorns, sir. We kept her blood off the bark harvest, but she’ll probably need Madam Pomfrey.”

Frowning, he watched as Silas approached with his scarf wrapped around his housemate’s forearm. He carried her satchel with his own. After inspecting the cuts, Severus nodded. “Take her in.”

Ferris Richter, the seventh year Slytherin Captain and Beater, acquired their satchels so the Hufflepuffs could return to the castle. He passed one of them to Garland, the intrepid Chaser, and the other to their slender third year Seeker, Brolin.

“Sir, should I go with them?” Shaw asked. “Make sure they’re safe out of here?”

“There’s an idea,” Richter drawled, “make it a Slytherin picnic.”

Severus almost didn’t allow it, but dark memories of this place changed his mind. “Go. Garland, take the bag.”

The four Slytherins remaining looked to him for further instructions, but he ignored them as he watched the other students head back.

Shaw had drawn his wand and his expression was grim, but Severus had the distinct impression that the forest wasn’t what had the boy on edge. Ever since the end of the holidays, he’d been quiet and sullen, barely containing a palpable hostility.

“Sir?” Richter spoke up. “Did you want us to continue?”

He looked around at them. “That will be enough for one night.” Severus turned to go back and they trailed after him. Kistler walked at his side only a pace or two behind. Her interest was obvious but he was too preoccupied to give it thought.

“Should we get a regular chop and wash operation going on our harvest tonight, sir?” Richter asked.

“No. I’m sure I can gather enough miscreants from other houses for that chore tomorrow. I want you and the rest of the team to get to sleep. You have a game coming up.”

They returned to the castle in silence as the moon climbed higher. Emerging from the forest, the snow surrounded them. No longer muted and dull, it shone in the moonlight, a glittering silver and white blanket. Yet it was not wholly unblemished. The tracks of three people crossed the open space up the hill. Two were close but the third was a few feet to the right, the boot prints turned often toward the forest before resuming the trek up to the entrance hall doors.

The descent to the dungeons didn’t warm any of them. Garland and Brolin spoke softly of hitting the kitchen and getting hot chocolate from the house-elves before bed.

Severus sat at his desk while they deposited their satchels on the worktable at the back of the office. He nodded briefly to the Seeker and the flat-nosed Chaser as they excused themselves. Richter hung back and Kistler was still setting down her bag.

“What is it?” Severus asked the boy.

“Shaw. He’s been glaring death at you all night, sir. I know you said we have to stop teaching them better respect, but he needs it.” He made a fist and cracked his knuckles with his other palm.

“Many students here are less than content in my company, especially in detention. Pay it no mind.”

The handsome brunet straightened his impressive six-foot frame and sighed. “Yes, sir – but he’d better watch for Bludgers in the next game. Vaughn and I have been practicing some of Ketch’s infamous moves. Flint has a few tricks ready, too.”

“Ensure that the Quidditch Cup remains in our keeping, and you’ll have done your duty to your house, Mr. Richter. I do not wish to give it back to Professors McGonagall or Flitwick at any point in the future.”

“That will be a pleasure, sir. But if Shaw just happens to need Skele-Gro by the end of the game, well – it’s a rough sport. Goodnight, Professor.”

Midnight had passed him by and another year was added to his age. Like all the rest, the day would be unmarked by most. The third decade of his life stretched out before him, as empty as the years behind.

A soft sound intruded on his thoughts and he realized that the redhead was still in the room. As she came into view, he met her gaze and frowned.

“Detention is over, Miss Kistler.”

“I wanted to speak to you privately, sir.”

“Meet me here after class tomorrow, then.”

She walked silently to the door but didn’t open it. “It’s disgraceful what she’s doing, sir.” Her fingers laced in front of her as she stood straight, no doubt a habit from her choral singing. “Lachlan enjoys the privileges but breaks the agreement. She insults you and all of us.”

Severus watched her, the frown deepening. “Explain yourself.”

“My mother is a friend of her family. There’s been an agreement between them and the Shaws, over the holidays. They aren’t announcing it officially until June – but Lachlan is affianced to Kenneth Shaw.”

“Yet she continues in her duty. I fail to see the problem – or the insult.”

“She’s supposed to be only –”

“Miss Kistler,” Severus interrupted, “I am quite aware of what Miss Lachlan is supposed to be.” She bowed her head, cowed by his whip-crack tone. After a moment of silence, he deliberately softened his tone. “Your offense in my honor is laudable but unnecessary. If Miss Lachlan is to marry Mr. Shaw, it will be after she graduates, and therefore none of my concern or interest. She is not indentured to my company for life.”

The girl looked up at him slowly, her emerald eyes bright. They were as expressive as Lachlan’s – and therefore equally disturbing. For the first time, he seriously assessed her as a person.

_A fine mind, beauty and poise, and a strong respect for Slytherin honor make her a good candidate to take Lachlan’s place in the next year. It is a post she obviously covets, presenting a means to control her headstrong nature._

She also had another quality that intrigued him. Born to a poor family of pure-blood stock, far below Lachlan’s in social status, she had a hunger that shined from her eyes. Her desire for power and knowledge to enhance her prospects was a drive that eclipsed any sense of decency.

Dormitory rumor said she knew much about the Dark Arts from her Death Eater uncle, and that she had mastered a few disciplines not offered at Hogwarts. Perhaps he could endure another girl who reminded him of ghosts – if she could help him solve an old mystery.

Smiling to put her ease, he asked, “You are accomplished at Occlumency, I believe?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Legilimency?”

“Yes, but not in your class, Professor.”

“Sufficient for a task I’d like you to undertake, I expect.”

“If I can do anything, sir –” Her body language communicated clearly the task she’d prefer to take on.

“For now, I need the services of your mind. Save the rest for next year.”

Her smile was a beguiling thing, full of wicked humor. “I will, sir.”

“I will instruct you further in Legilimency and in return, I want you to make friends with a few select students.” As she nodded, he waved her out. “After class tomorrow, Miss Kistler.”

“Yes, sir.” She opened the door and paused before closing it, turning back to him. “Happy Birthday, Professor.”

When the door closed, he sat back in his chair with a smile tugging at his lips. He might not need to teach her much after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here begins the diverging promised by the story title. Tighten your seatbelts, LOL. Snape’s birthday is January 9, 1960. Sorry for the delay, I signed up for the Dean/Castiel Big Bang over in the Supernatural fandom and it's kept me busier than usual. October is also a crazy month for me. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic) (anongrimm.tumblr.com)


	11. Bludger Gods and Revelations

*******************************  
**Arelia**  
*******************************

“I want to know everything you’ve got on a magical passage across this hallway.”

The Weasley twins looked at each other. One of them, Arelia had no idea which, smiled and replied, “What’s in it for us?”

“I won’t tell Professor McGonagall about catching you out of bed after curfew every night this week, in possession of every item Filch has ever banned on most of those nights.” She crossed her arms and waited.

“She’s got us, Fred.”

“First off, we’re only doing this to figure out what Professor Snape is up to,” George offered. Arelia made a mental note that he was the one in the blue sweater.

“What a teacher does is also none of your concern or business. However, in this case, I want to know what he’s up to, so spill it.”

George took a deep breath. “It’s a spell, we figured that much out – but we can’t find anything in the library that would do it. It goes from there to there,” he said, pointing. “Not during the week so much, mostly on Friday and Saturday nights.”

“Yeah,” Fred interjected, “and sometimes you can feel it operating for as much as an hour at a time.”

“How’d you figure that out?” Her eyes narrowed.

“On nights when you weren’t patrolling the dungeons, we’ve stood right here and tossed our own spells at it, trying to figure out what it is. Most of the time we get marched off to bed, though, so it might go on longer than an hour sometimes.” Fred shrugged. “On weekends, the Slytherins are in and out through here too much for a real study, but we know the spell is in operation quite a bit during the weekend afternoons.”

“Unless Professor Snape is dealing with detentions,” George added.

“Why are you so certain it’s him casting it?”

“If he’s not about or he’s busy, the spell isn’t operating.” Fred tapped his temple with a fingertip. “Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.”

“None of the spells you’ve hit it with affect it or detect what it is?”

“Nope,” they both chimed in unison.

Footsteps down the stairs interrupted them, and they all fell silent as the Slytherin prefect strode into view.

“Good evening, lady and gents,” Marcus greeted them. “Back on the case, boys?”

Arelia put her hands on their shoulders and squeezed slightly, a subtle command for silence. “I’ve got it under control, thanks.” To the twins, she added, “Get back to bed and stay there. I’ll discuss your detention options with Professor McGonagall tomorrow.”

Marcus arched an eyebrow and gave her a smirk as they hurried off. “You have a lot of castle to go through, but the dungeons seem to be a favorite.”

She stared back at him and smiled. “I can usually count on finding rule breakers down here.”

“Sure you’re not just hoping to run into Snape?”

“I’m sure. How are you enjoying your new notoriety?”

“New?” His smooth smile was arrogant but fetching. He stepped closer and touched her cheek, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “I’ve been notorious forever, but the win has been entertaining. Unfortunately, I haven’t needed to battle Silas in defense of your honor. He must be aware of your games.” His lips brushed her ear.

Arelia stiffened at the sight of the Potions master at the foot of the stairs. He’d come down them without a sound and paused, an unpleasant smile on his lips as he watched them. Her attitude alerted Marcus and he turned.

“Prefects are allowed up this late for the capture of miscreants, Mr. Marcus, not for the pursuit of liaisons, however financially rewarding.” He approached them and shared a chilly stare with Arelia.

Marcus stepped back from her. “Sir, we were – discussing finding the Weasley twins lurking, again.”

“I do recall the motives of an eighteen-year-old male well enough to know better, even if I had not interrupted your ‘discussion’. Miss Galen, I would like to speak to my prefect in private, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I was hoping to speak with you myself, sir,” she replied, her tone cold.

“Tomorrow, perhaps – if you don’t have Valentines plans in Hogsmeade. You may come by my office after the noon meal.” His rigid stance didn’t invite argument or compromise.

“Yes, sir. I will see you then. Goodnight, Mr. Marcus.”

Marcus smiled and bowed to her. “I look forward to seeing you in town tomorrow evening, Miss Galen. Dinner at the Three Broomsticks?”

Arelia’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Certainly.” She turned and headed up the stairs. They hadn’t had a plan to meet in Hogsmeade, and she couldn’t tell if he’d said that just to stake a claim in front of Snape or for some other nefarious purpose.

~ ~ ~

Carine took forever selecting a lollipop before answering Arelia’s question with a predictable answer. “It’s Slytherin business. I couldn’t talk about it with you, so I didn’t – and Marcus shouldn’t be either. As for Kenneth, it’s not proper to discuss that sort of thing outside of the families involved before an official announcement.”

“I’m your best friend – exceptions could be made. Why wouldn’t you want to tell me about getting engaged, officially or not? Marcus told me about it over the holidays. I’ve waited until now to give you a chance to tell me yourself, but obviously you didn’t plan to. After we ‘ganged up on’ your Slytherin gander, I figured you knew you could trust me. For that matter, I would have thought you could tell me about Snape, too. Why did you make me think that was your first time with him?”

“Because I couldn’t talk about the rest,” she repeated, turning away to purchase her candy.

Honeydukes was swamped. Arelia pressed through the crowd after the blonde, moving through the hearts and cupids decorations with disdain. At the counter, she whispered, “Is he hurting you?”

Her friend stiffened. “No. Can’t this wait? It’s a little public in here.”

“I’ll wait outside for you then – and I’ll expect a real answer.”

The blonde looked caught when she finally emerged from the shop. “‘No’ isn’t a real answer?”

“Carine, I was given the impression he might be cruel to you.”

“Given by who? Marcus? Well he’s wrong. What’s he spreading a tale like that to you for, anyway? He’s supposed to be Snape’s darling, keeper of secrets and honor.”

Arelia sighed. “He didn’t malign Snape. He just said he could be cruel if a girl got too personal. You can play the uncaring slut card as much as you like, but I know better. Be sure you mean what you say, too, because I intend to ask Snape about it personally.”

“He’s not mean to me, he doesn’t hurt me. Okay? Should I do lines on it, Miss Prefect?”

“Then why have you been so distraught and unlike yourself since this tutor foolishness started?”

“I can’t tell you why.”

“More Slytherin business? Come on, Carine, it’s me –”

“No! Not Slytherin business – my business, okay?” Glancing around them nervously at a few staring shoppers, she lowered her voice. “Mine. Not yours, not Snape’s – and he’s got nothing to do with it.”

Shocked, Arelia stepped back. “I – I just want to help you…”

“Carine!” a girl’s voice called out.

They both turned to see a redheaded Slytherin. Arelia knew she was a sixth year but couldn’t remember much more about her. Carine’s housemates ritually behaved as if their friendship was offensive and few of them were cordial to her.

“Hi Serena.” Carine hugged her. “We were just going to get a butterbeer. Join us?”

“Thanks,” the girl replied.

Dazed, Arelia followed them. They got a table in the busy pub after Carine used her prefect influence to eject a quartet of Hufflepuff third years. She gave them the task of fetching drinks, too, without giving them money for the mission. Arelia wordlessly paid them back when they brought the bottles over.

Carine smiled and raised her bottle. “A toast – to Slytherin winning the next match.” The other girl looked surprised, and Carine grinned. “She doesn’t care about Quidditch, it’s okay.”

“I’m Arelia Galen,” Arelia introduced herself.

“Oh, yeah,” Carine said, “I forgot you two haven’t really met. This is Serena Kistler.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Kistler responded, shaking the hand Arelia offered.

“Serena and I are the only pure-blood girls in our respective Muggle Studies classes, so we’ve been figuring out the gist of the homework together,” Carine explained.

“Maybe you could help?” Kistler asked. “You’re Muggle-born, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Arelia frowned. She’d been teased and tormented about it by pure-blood Slytherins her first three years at Hogwarts. The fact that Carine had never cared about her heritage had cemented their friendship, but that trust didn’t extend to her housemates an inch. “I can’t talk now though, I’m sorry. I have an appointment.” She gave Carine a frosty smile. “I’ll see you back here tonight?”

“Sure, if Marcus doesn’t monopolize your attention. He told me about your dinner date. I wasn’t that surprised, though I thought you’d have mentioned it before this morning.” Carine’s answering smile was sweet, warm, and as charming as a Boggart.

“I only found out about it last night myself,” Arelia replied, her tone casual. She resisted the temptation to mention that it was Slytherin business – and therefore secret.

Leaving Carine with her new friend, she headed back up to the castle, her thoughts whirling. The new rift between them was confusing and hurt her more than she wanted to admit.

_Is it just the issue of Marcus that turned her cold to me? Perhaps that’s just an excuse and the prying into ‘Slytherin business’ and her dealings with Snape is the real offense?_ Whatever the cause, it left her bewildered and aching.

Arelia tried to cling to her suspicious anger at Snape; it had been a welcome distraction since the holidays. Yet even that had faded under the growing coldness of her best friend until only the confusion remained strong.

The return trip to the school was a blur and she barely noticed when it ended at the Potions master’s office door. Her knock broke the silence in the hall, emphasizing how deserted the dungeon appeared to be.

Hearing his invitation, she opened the door. The professor wasn’t alone and his company was surprising. The Bloody Baron said something she couldn’t hear to the attentive teacher, and then disappeared through the wall into the classroom beyond.

She watched the place thoughtfully, wondering what the ghost had been saying. She’d never noticed him around the professor before, let alone deep in a conversation quickly broken off at an interruption.

“You did ask for this meeting, Miss Galen. I have to see to a detention shortly.”

Arelia faced him, her expression calm and cold, her hands at her sides. She ignored the twirling black wand in his hand. Instinct made her stick to her planned questions, but now that she stood before him, her emotions coiled and crested – and anger wasn’t among them. All she had left to focus on was a vague offense at his arrogance.

“I know the truth about the Slytherin Tutor. Considering the way Carine has been acting since the start of school, I assume you haven’t been entirely cordial. I understand her reason for lying, and I can’t pretend surprise that you were. I hope you haven’t gotten into the habit of hurting her.”

“My manner, cordial or not, is my business, Miss Galen. I advise against interference in the matter.”

His black eyes studied her as if she were a fascinating specimen in a murky jar. Arelia knew the look well and remembered too late that a threatening attitude would get her nowhere with him. Attempting to control both offense and concern for her friend, she tried another approach.

Moving up to his desk, she leaned her hands on it, positioning her low-cut sweater at eye-level. When the wand went still, she smiled. “Now do I have your attention?”

“Go on.”

“I’ve been worried for her, Severus. Tell me you haven’t been cruel to her.”

His smile was smug. “I have not, by my standards. If you want the truth, your friend has had a conflict of interests since winning her post as Tutor. She feels for Shaw and this infatuation has distracted her.”

“I shouldn’t trust you.”

He reached out with his wand slowly, set the chilled wood in the point of her V-neck and pulled it down an extra inch. “Few would recommend it, on principle, though I assure you I intend no harm to Miss Lachlan – or to yourself.”

Arelia curled her fingers around the wand and slid them suggestively up and down it. “Just what I wanted to hear and therefore not likely the truth – except that Carine insists you aren’t hurting her. Frankly, I’m not sure what to believe anymore where she’s concerned, either.”

He withdrew the wand and rose, pocketing it as he moved from behind the desk with the grace of a hunting cat.

Watching him, she felt her body respond to desires it had learned to crave, inspired even more hotly by her upset. Before she could straighten, he had leaned over her, pressing himself into her body, his hands cupping her shoulders.

“Truth can be a matter of semantics, Arelia. I will give you my truth – I intend to protect Miss Lachlan, even from herself. She is one of mine, and Slytherins take care of their own.”

She felt his lips at her ear and shuddered. “Protect her from what, besides yourself?”

“You don’t know either, then. I thought she might confess to you or to Shaw. I’m not at liberty to get quite as close to him, of course – but you could.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She gasped when his hands dropped and gathered her wool skirt into a bunch at her waist. The cold air in the office made her shiver.

Snape didn’t answer as his fingers caressed the goose bumps on her bare skin briefly around the lace of her garter stays. His sharp intake of breath curled her lips into a wicked smile as he realized she was wearing the garter belt without panties. He let the breath out again as a hiss and then his touch left her.

His hands were busy behind her as their bodies held the skirt out of the way. Arelia touched her own wand in its pocket on her sleeve and cast the Contraceptive Spell nonverbally, surprised at how eager she was for this act.

She let out a low groan when he entered her, his hands at her hips. Her palms steadied her against his desk and all thoughts melted away with his insistent thrusts.

The door to the office was behind them and the empty silence of the dungeon level was easily disturbed by heavy footsteps chased by echoes. The fear and thrill of being caught fired her lust and Arelia had to bite her bottom lip to stop herself from crying out.

They both climaxed quickly, almost desperately, mere moments later and Severus moved away from her so swiftly she almost lost her footing. She heard the knock of his detention victim and hurriedly straightened her clothing.

The Potions master was already seated again, with only the smirk on his lips left over from their encounter. “Enter,” he announced.

Xander stepped through the door and stared at Arelia, a stunned look on his face. She knew her skin was flushed and devoutly hoped she didn’t look too disheveled.

“You’re late, Mr. Silas.” Turning his attention to her, he added, “That will be all, Miss Galen – you needn’t become so upset over these mere behavioral trifles. If you notice any further problems of a more heinous nature, don’t hesitate to bring them to my attention.”

Leaning on the door after her escape, Arelia tried to control her breathing. Whatever Snape had wanted Carine to confess was beyond her, but clearly the Slytherin Tutor wasn’t the only secret her friend was keeping.

Had Xander guessed what had happened? Students always looked trapped and cagey in that office, but he had seemed genuinely disturbed. Perhaps Snape’s secret wasn’t as carefully guarded as he thought.

Gritting her teeth at the near miss, she cast a nonverbal cleansing charm. Her grip on her wand made her fist tremble. Forcing herself to slip it back into its sleeve pocket, she moved away from the office door as quietly as she could manage.

Shaking her head at the insanity of it all, she headed upstairs to the prefect’s bathroom, unsure if she should meet Marcus for dinner or not. Weighing options, it might be worth it – if she could lure him into discussing Snape.

Arelia waited for a sense of guilt or shame to overtake her for allowing that coarse coupling with the Potions master, but try as she might, all she felt was a release of tension and a renewed curiosity.

*******************************  
**Carine**  
*******************************

The younger girl had walked with her down to the fence where they stood staring out at the Shrieking Shack. Carine stuffed her hands in the pockets of her coat and pushed away the wish that she could have spent the day with Kenneth.

It had felt dishonest talking with Serena about the engagement and not Arelia, but knowing their mothers would talk, she hadn’t tried to deny it when she’d asked. Since Serena knew all about the Slytherin Tutor, too, it had been a guilty pleasure confiding in her over the last month about some of her meetings with Snape behind closed doors.

She knew she was talking to her probable successor; Serena Kistler had been angling to catch the Potions master’s eye since Rowan held the job. Rumor stated she was top pick these days, too, fueled by the knowledge that she’d been in detention with the professor at least twice. Snape didn’t give a Slytherin detention without ulterior motives.

Kistler broke in on her thoughts. “I’ve never heard the ghost, have you?”

“Huh? Oh – no, I haven’t.”

“Hamish claimed to. He used to try and scare me, bragging about sneaking inside and battling evil forces. Pure rubbish.”

“A natural assumption, with him.”

“I miss him.” She held herself and smiled at Carine’s stare. “I know you don’t – but he was nice to me. I wasn’t his cousin, able to do no wrong.”

Carine’s laugh was bitter. “I could do no wrong with him breathing down my neck. I was trying, though.”

“Richter said they’re going to try some of his signature moves against Ravenclaw. Arelia really doesn’t mind drinking to her own team’s defeat?”

“No, I told you, Quidditch isn’t her thing. If she cares about it for the sake of her house’s honor, I’ve never heard her say so. She thinks Wizard’s Chess is the only worthwhile team effort at school, including who is top house by graduation.”

“That feels like years away for me. My seventh year might be boring after you lot leave. I haven’t got many friends in my own year.”

“Keep after Snape. He won’t let you get bored – or let you have any time for friends.”

“Can I ask you something, Carine? It’s sort of a secret, but I guess it’s not so vital now.”

“Sure.”

The girl faced the distant haunted building. “I used to have a crush on Hamish … but all he ever did was joke around like I was a kid.” Her head turned abruptly, the red hair flashing in the weak sun that tried to warm the day. Meeting Carine’s eyes, she whispered, “Did he ever mention me? Maybe notice that I liked him? I know he wasn’t into doe-eyed little girls, but I always hoped…”

~ ~ ~

Lying in bed in the dim light of the fire, Carine stroked Latimer’s sleek fur, her tears drying on her face. She hadn’t met Arelia after lunch that day. The thought of seeing her with Marcus left her cold and she’d felt guilty about fighting with her, too. Walking back up to the castle with Serena, she had dodged questions about Hamish and allowed her friend to do most of the talking.

She had gone to bed early only to receive a visit from Snape. He didn’t remain long, and although Carine had tried to be attentive, he was probably unimpressed with her performance. If she couldn’t pull herself together, she wouldn’t have to worry about him finding out her secret shame – her housemates would lynch her for making their Head of House irritable. Some of them were already giving her long looks and baleful stares. The real reason she had spent so much time with Serena Kistler lately was that she seemed to be the only one who wasn’t offended at her behavior.

Carine had slept after Snape disappeared, but the old nightmares had jolted her awake again. The rat snuggled under her chin.

“Only a few months left, Latimer,” she whispered. “Then I graduate, and as soon as I can manage it, we’re going to go live with Kenneth.” Her best friend’s face haunted her thoughts. “Why did Arelia have to get mixed up with Raegan ‘Decker’ Marcus, the Hound of Hell?” she asked the rat. “He’s in Snape’s pocket more than the rest of them – and she expects me to tell her everything while she’s sharing a pillow with him?”

With a sigh, she got up and fetched the decanter of firewhiskey that was always full on the mantle. Maybe the nightmares wouldn’t come back if she was drunk enough to pass out?

Several glasses later, she was sure of only one thing – her Occlumency lessons over the holidays had paid off. She had felt Snape trying to pry the entire time he’d been with her, but he hadn’t broken through.

“Should I warn Serena about his brain-snooping habit?” she asked her pet as he curled up again against her shoulder. “I should.” Carine sighed. “If I didn’t have her to relax around I’d probably go crazy.”

Even as she thought it, she felt the longing for her old closeness with Arelia – but the fleeting idea of fully confiding in her came and went quickly. The Ravenclaw prefect wouldn’t understand. To her, everything was black and white, right and wrong. The desperate act of a scared child wouldn’t be excused, even if the horror of it was understood.

She held herself tightly and fell into a fitful sleep. The scent of peppermint dogged her dreaming mind and rosebuds failed to bloom, no matter how much blood nourished their greedy roots.

~ ~ ~

Carine sat between Serena Kistler and Professor Snape, but Quidditch practice was still an ordeal in the strong, cold wind of March. She struggled to keep her mind as closed as she could, but the team was working out some very signature moves, and every time Richter or Vaughn mimed her deceased cousin’s tricks, she twitched or winced.

Their side of the bleachers was populated solely by Slytherins but she had spied Kenneth across the field, newly healed from his injury in the last game. He was sitting with Arelia and her Hufflepuff, Silas. Hagrid was over there, too. Were they all watching her more than the practice between them?

“Ah, there,” Snape said, cutting into her thoughts. “If they tighten up, they’ll have that one down.”

“Hamish could do that in his sleep,” Serena bragged.

“Give them time,” Snape admonished. “Vaughn may barely classify as a mammal, but Richter will master the technique before much longer.”

Mastered or not, Richter had used that technique to shatter Kenneth’s left arm. Snape had insisted it was an accident, of course. Holding back threatening tears, Carine tried not to keep staring at Kenneth, but it wasn’t any easier to meet the eyes of Arelia or Hagrid. She shivered.

Snape turned to her. “Are you cold, Miss Lachlan? We could go inside, if you like.”

Looking into his black eyes and feeling her stomach drop, she nodded.

They would end up in bed, and though she fought it inside, she would cling to him as she always did these days. The more she wanted nothing to do with him, the more intensely they copulated. It seemed to please him, but then the memories would unhinge her again and she would begin to cry. The constant switching angered him. Yet when she could match his desire, his skill became a drug, the only thing that seemed to keep the memories at bay. The muddled confusion of it left her feeling empty and she would end up turning to Snape again in order to feel anything at all.

Even now, she was caught between eagerness and dread. Looking across the field, her guilt crowded in. Kenneth would watch them leave together, alone, and he’d know why.

Snape rose and offered his hand. Catching Serena’s eye, she startled at the girl’s wink as her hand was clasped by their teacher’s.

“Should I report on their progress later, Professor?” the redhead asked.

“No need,” he answered as Carine followed him. “I will be in the common room this evening to discuss the practice. Please pass on to Richter that I will expect to see the entire team there.”

“Yes, sir.”

Carine turned once to look at her and found the younger girl watching them as the practice continued. She shivered again, the sense of dread tightening in her stomach.

*******************************  
**Severus**  
*******************************

Her Occlumency remained strong in his presence, probably because she was on her guard against him. From Kistler’s reports, he knew there was much the blonde tried to hide concerning her cousin’s death. He was almost certain she had killed him herself ... but why?

Severus couldn’t pretend to care in general about Hamish Ketch’s fate. The self-styled Bludger God had been worthless off the Quidditch field and less than successful at keeping the secrets of his Head of House. Kistler had already learned by snooping in Shaw’s company that the Ravenclaw Seeker knew exactly what the Slytherin Tutor was because Ketch had bragged about it to him years before.

The girl who held all the remaining pieces of the puzzle lay panting underneath him. He brushed sweaty locks of hair from her eyes and stared into their emerald depths. Echoes of memory nudged at his thoughts and he turned away, lying on his back.

“What do you see when you look at me like that?” Lachlan whispered.

Severus closed his eyes. In memory, he saw a pale hand slipping through his black hair and tucking it behind his ear, baring his face to searching emerald eyes.

“Nothing that concerns you.”

Chastised by his cold tone, she fell silent. He dozed for a time but woke with a start, breaking the old nightmare of the explosion of green light, the woman’s scream. The girl beside him watched him in surprise. Frowning, he turned her onto her stomach.

He knew she was always afraid in this position, though he never hurt her. The reason for the fear had to be significant, so he initiated it as the only way to break into her Occlumency shields. The images his Legilimency could extract were limited and confusing. Eventually, he gave it up and simply pleasured himself, free at least from his own ghosts while her eyes couldn’t watch him.

Withdrawing himself when he finished, he rose immediately and donned his bathrobe again. The time before speaking to the Quidditch team would be best spent in a hot bath in his chambers.

The spelled doorway in the arch waited, but then a sob behind him made him pause. For a moment, compassion bloomed – but it brought with it a pain he couldn’t risk showing to anyone, least of all to a foolish girl. With a vague anger kindling, he turned to face her.

Sultry curves in firelight, sheets bunched across the smooth backs of her thighs – the image tugged at him. For a moment the blonde hair was almost a dark red, the skin pale. Shaking his head, he allowed the anger to kill the hurt.

“Why do you persist in this foolishness?”

She muttered something, her face buried in her arms. Severus strode back to the bedside, grabbed her shoulders, and flipped her to her back. She cried out, her arms up to protect her face.

“Do you think I would strike you?”

His hands had curled into fists. Glancing at them, his stomach lurched as the memory of other fists intruded. He spread the fingers slowly, forced the hands to relax.

“Miss Lachlan, look at me.” She did, and the sight of the wet green eyes stabbed into him. “I have not harmed you. This response is unnecessary. Control yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” she gasped.

“Sit up.”

He turned away and poured firewhiskey for them both. Handing her a glass, he sat near her and gulped half the liquor in his.

“Drink it,” he commanded.

She did, holding the glass in trembling fingers. Severus ran his free hand through his long hair, allowing the curtain of it to fall back into his eyes like a mask.

“I tire of this game, Miss Lachlan. Perhaps you should be relieved of your obligations to me.”

She turned to him with an expression of dread. “Sir, please, don’t…”

Severus frowned as one eyebrow arched in surprise. “Your behavior has led me to believe you would welcome this.”

“The others … would make my life a living hell.”

He took her glass and put it down with his on the nightstand. Grasping her shoulders, he forced her to look at him.

“They will obey me. You are one of mine. Others might not approve of my habits, but those in our house know I will protect my own. You refuse to say why this role that you pursued so intently has been a problem from the start.” His fingers tightened. “I will only ask you directly once, Miss Lachlan, but I will learn the truth. What is troubling you?”

Lachlan shook her head as fresh tears fell. “I can’t… Please sir … let me stay?”

Her words shook him. _‘Let me stay.’_ How many years ago had another said that, with tears in her eyes? Pain threatened to rise, to overwhelm, until he crushed it without mercy.

Severus held his expression perfectly still, a pale mask, as fresh threads of anger twined through the fog of useless emotions he could never purge. He reached for those threads in his mind, twisting them into a brittle lifeline.

All at once, desperate to escape those eyes, he released her and stood. “If you remain in this room, you will learn to obey me, too. These fits of yours weary me.”

The girl slipped from the bed to her knees at his feet. Her fingers touched the cold hard stones as her body began to tremble. “I will, I’m sorry… I promise, I will...”

Silent, he backed away. Ignoring her beseeching stare, he entered his spell and retreated to his own chambers.

Drawing the tapestry over the arch, he stopped the spell and stared at the faded words of the poem, the lines of it echoing in his memory.

Whispers in the library … she had found it ribald, a poem urging them to misbehave, while he had always sensed in it a waiting dread, dwelling on gathered roses doomed to wither.

_Her voice, her eyes – housed in this impossible young woman, clouding my judgment. I should leave her to the tightening noose others have prepared for her. Yet can I cast away one of mine merely because she calls up ghosts? My house is all that is left to me; their honor and success is all I have._

Severus turned away from the tapestry to pace before it. The candles flickered as he passed.

_If rumors from old friends and allies are to be trusted, there could be worse to come than a mixed up tutor._ _Can I allow Falchion to threaten her and lose one of my most brilliant students for the sake of a dead braggart, a useless fool? Lucius said Falchion is near to bringing a case against Lachlan officially._

He stopped pacing and stared up at the ancient Slytherin tapestry over his bed. All that the crest symbolized to him crowded into his heart, and in that moment, he saw through the Ravenclaw Auror’s machinations.

_No, I cannot allow that. If she succeeds, she will use it as a stepping stone to accuse others. Perhaps that is the reason for her investigation, from the beginning – to strike a spark in the heart of our secrets, merely to see what may catch fire. The memories of the rabble are shallow, but their fear has never faded. There is no better fuel to create a blaze._

Severus moved to the wall, lifted his hand and touched the edge of the green and silver tapestry. It was worn and old, but still vibrant, standing the test of time and adversity.

_Can those who wear its colors in this modern age do the same, if the bureaucrats wake and remember their fear – their hate? The names they could gather now would be merely the children and grandchildren of those whom they once hunted and caged. Would reason stop them from believing that these innocents ought to share a similar fate?_

Turning away from the crest, his fists slowly clenched. Striding stiffly to the bedroom doorway, he stared across the dim chamber beyond at a simple scrollcase waiting, forgotten, in the shadows.

Inside it, rolled and stored for years, were spells that could bring a hideous death instantly – as well as provide his enemies with all the proof they would ever need. After all, many of them had been created by him in his youth – at an age younger than most of his students could now claim.

Shaking his head, he stepped into the room and drew his wand. Starting the fire, he sat abruptly on the couch, set his wand on the coffee table, and allowed his face to sink into his hands.

_Lachlan is merely the tinder required to begin. There are more tempting targets for those in power and with Falchion tending the blaze, how far down the docket will my name appear?_

Lifting his head, he stared into the flames which he had created with a mere flick of a wand, barely having to think the required word for the charm to work. Between the desire and the result, so little effort was needed.

_Even now, after all the intervening years, it will be as simple to spark this conflagration, to burn us all, as this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snape fans who have read the books know who his main green-eyed ghost is in this story. He’s still grieving for her (Always...) and she is the reason he guards his heart so viciously. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic) (anongrimm.tumblr.com)


	12. Deceptions and Games

*******************************  
Arelia  
*******************************

“I can’t believe that,” Arelia whispered. Her fingers slipped through soft black hair as Marcus kissed her throat. She opened to him without hesitation and closed her eyes when he entered her again.

“You trust her just because she’s Ravenclaw – like you mistrust me for being Slytherin. Nothing’s that simple.”

He settled into the tireless piston rhythm that kept her seeking his company, his teeth nipping her neck. They had to be quick, but the thrilling threat of discovery only made their trysts more exciting.

“Professor Falchion is obsessed, I’ll agree to that, but she’s got nothing on Carine.”

Marcus went still and when she opened her eyes, he was staring down at her in surprise. “Carine? You think she’s after a schoolgirl? Carine’s an excuse. That Auror bitch wants Snape. She’s tried to nail him for years, but Dumbledore protects him.”

“Why would she care about him? He had nothing to do with Ketch’s death.”

“He was a Death Eater. This isn’t about Ketch. It’s about the Dark Arts. Falchion wants to hang anyone who knows them, let alone ever used them. She’s got half of our Quidditch team shaking in their boots and the other half ready to break heads. Do you know who her stooge is? Your own Beldon.”

“Is that supposed to shock me? Beldon’s a natural rat.”

“Yeah? Well how’s this for rumors – Shaw’s stirring the pot for her, too.”

Arelia tried to throw him off her, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the couch. The frame of the bleachers overhead shook with the cheering and stamping of the crowd above.

“Kenneth wouldn’t peddle her shit if she’s after Slytherins, and you know why. Let me up, rot you!”

His voice whispered at her ear as his body moved again, luring her away from her momentary resistance. “Yes, I know why, but it’s a secret, isn’t it? Richter won’t stop at shattering his arm next time and he’s got the rest of them believing the rumor, too.”

She couldn’t speak as the sensation of being held down fired her blood. As her house roared overhead in their battle with the Hufflepuff team, Arelia gasped and panted as her partner drove them both to climax.

When he let her up, he knew she wasn’t angry. They’d played that game too many times now. She watched as he slowly hid his beauty under cloth again.

Reaching for her jeans and sweater, her thoughts whirled. “Kenneth isn’t spreading slander about your house, not about Death Eater connections or anything else. Can’t you call them off?”

“Why should I? A little extra rivalry is doing wonders for our points score.”

“Raegan…” Arelia smiled softly as she whispered his given name. Predictably, he relented.

“I’ll try, but I’m not promising anything. I may be the prefect, but Richter is the real power in our class. He’s brought home the Quidditch Cup enough times to be worshipped by now.”

“I thought you were Snape’s current favorite?” Once they were both dressed, she settled behind him and rubbed his shoulders.

“I am. He always prefers the politically connected to the athletically gifted, but that doesn’t lessen Richter’s influence with the rest of the house.” When the crowd went wild again, he added, “It sounds like your Hufflepuff is losing up there. We’d better get out while we can.”

Following him out of the Snake Pit under the bleachers, Arelia frowned. “He’s not my Hufflepuff; he’s dating that blonde, Haurgaard, now.”

“Yet still holding a torch for you.”

~ ~ ~

Arelia kept up the pretense of studying while keeping an eye on Beldon. The library slowly emptied as tired students straggled off to bed, but the Head Boy remained – thoroughly absorbed in a book he’d checked out of the forbidden section.

When they were all that was left and Madam Pince had moved away to straighten her shelves, Arelia got up and sat down again next to her housemate.

Without looking up, Beldon spoke, his tone disdainful. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“I have plenty to say to you.”

“You’re a traitor to your own house. A Slytherin for a best friend, a Slytherin for a snog partner. Why don’t you move out of the tower? I bet Decker rates a double bed in his dungeon kingdom.”

“I don’t recall you being so particular when you started your bet. I know I never saw ‘must be won by a Ravenclaw’ in the rules.”

“Things change. It’s time for loyalty and justice now. That nest of snakes is full of supporters for You-Know-Who and they’re led by a Death Eater.”

“Former Death Eater, tried and acquitted. Beldon, tell me this – do you get any of your ideas from actual knowledge or are you just regurgitating what Falchion tells you?”

“Professor Falchion is an Auror. She’s been hunting these criminals since You-Know-Who first rose to power.”

“So you intend to follow her as blindly as others followed Voldemort?”

Beldon hissed at her. “Only a Muggle-born or a traitor would say that name casually. Watch your step, Arelia.”

“Why don’t you go ahead and call me a Mudblood? I know you used to. Slytherin isn’t the only house with entrenched prejudices. By the way, why would a bunch of fanatic purists let me into their little club?”

“You’re their prefect’s doxy. Marcus is forgiven anything, didn’t you notice?”

Arelia’s smile was vicious. “Call me that again and Madam Pince will be digging you out of the flagstones.”

“Why is the girl who always wanted peace and harmony between our houses dating the worst bruiser in Slytherin since Ketch? Give it up, Arelia. You’ve had us fooled since first year but not anymore. The Sorting Hat made a mistake with you.”

“Marcus is nothing like Ketch. If you bothered to get to know people in other houses, you might find they aren’t always a stereotype of their founders.”

“He’s nothing like him?” Beldon laughed, and the librarian swooped down on them in an instant. Though the library was empty, they were shooed out immediately.

In the hall, Beldon grinned. “Ever wonder how he got the nickname ‘Decker’? Raegan Marcus can take down anyone with one punch. He played Quidditch in his second year, a Beater. He was pulled from the team permanently for violence. In fact, I saw his name on Professor Falchion’s list of potential troublemakers. Two Death Eaters in his family. So maybe you should get to know more about people before you hook up with them. You’ll probably be cheering them on over Gryffindor next month; I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“I don’t bother with that stupid sport and why do you care who wins that match?”

“Better Gryffindor than Slytherin. It’s the last playoff. We won ours and whoever wins the next one fights us for the cup. I’d rather play against a team with honor. Slytherin cheated in our last game and nearly killed our Seeker. I’d be careful about who I slept with from here on, if I were you. Lie down with dogs and you’ll get fleas.”

Arelia’s wand was drawn as he turned away and she shook with the desire to hex him.

_This is insane. I’m being ostracized from my own house over a boy I feel nothing but lust for and a friend who barely talks to me anymore._ _It’s enough to make a girl want to hex the next Slytherin she sees for the hell of it. Maybe the next Ravenclaw, too._

“Arelia?”

She turned and found the only housemate she wasn’t angry with approaching her. Kenneth looked as preoccupied and upset as she felt.

“Finally, someone I don’t want to hit with a trio of nasty curses.” She gave him a friendly smile to soften her words.

“We need to talk.” He motioned for her to follow him.

They went up to the Astronomy Tower and he locked the door after them. Facing her, his expression was almost fearful.

“The common room is buzzing. They want to report you to Professor Flitwick, but they can’t come up with a crime he’ll take seriously.”

“Why? I haven’t done anything – has our house gone nuts?”

“Fraternizing with the enemy is a sin these days, didn’t you hear? They’d be trying to railroad me too, if they knew about Carine and I.” He blinked and added in a whisper, “You do know about us?”

“Yes, and I’m happy for you both. You’ve got nothing to fear from me.”

“I feel like a prize idiot. I told Carine I could protect her if she’d let me, that Slytherin wasn’t the only house with a potential brute squad – but the potentials are all in Falchion’s camp. The woman is inciting a house feud, and I’m not even sure why.”

“Beldon just cleared that up. She’s got pogroms on the brain. I don’t know much about the whole mess, but I get the impression our intrepid D.A.D.A. teacher is seeing Death Eaters under every Slytherin book bag.”

Kenneth ran his hand through his hair and swore. “I miss that fool Quirrel. We should go to the headmaster. Dumbledore can make her drop it.”

“We can’t go over Professor Flitwick’s head. Let’s go see him together tomorrow.”

“I’m in, but – are you sure you can trust Marcus? It’s in his nature to be spoiling for a fight as much as Beldon.”

“I trust in his loyalty to Slytherin. If Falchion’s after his house and has some kind of evidence against them, he won’t support a feud that could play into her hands. I’d worry more about Richter for that.”

The Seeker held his left arm reflexively. The memory of the last game against Slytherin was clearly still fresh. Madame Pomfrey could heal the arm but not the trauma of the attack.

“He’s the only one of them I’d like a piece of.” Kenneth nearly hissed the words, glaring at his arm.

“We can’t sink to their level. Ravenclaws are supposed to be the smart ones. Since the rest of our house has gone mad, it’s up to us to carry the flag of common sense.”

He winced. “Maybe we should see Professor Flitwick separately.”

“Why?”

“If you’ve heard the dreck being spouted about me, you know your Slytherin friends won’t like it if you’re seen with me. Carine and I are already keeping away from each other for other reasons, but still –”

“There’s only three Slytherins whose opinion of me I give a damn about. I’m not even sure why I care about one of them. Carine knows better and Marcus is aware the talk about you is all Beldon’s lies – or Richter’s. Don’t worry about them. We need to present our case together.”

“Who is the third person?”

She hesitated a moment, then determined to trust him, took the plunge. “Professor Snape.”

Holding up her hand to stop his angry protest, she spoke urgently under her breath, drawing him closer to hear.

“I know you consider him a personal enemy because of Carine, but we’re a handful of students against an Auror on a crusade and the mass of our peers stumbling over each other to help her. Snape, with the headmaster on his side, might be the best defender Carine’s got.”

“I can’t… I won’t –”

“I’m not asking you to make friends with the man. Let me deal with him.”

“Arelia, tell me something. Xander spoke to me before.” He took a breath, let it go. “Have you been with Snape, too? In his office?”

“Yes. In his office, his chambers, and the Hog’s Head. That’s my business and it doesn’t matter, Kenneth. Stop thinking like a Ravenclaw with a grudge and think like a man with a fiancée in trouble. Snape can help us, end of discussion.”

Closing his mouth tight with a frown, the Seeker glared at her. After a heartbeat or two of defiant stiffness, he dropped his gaze with a sigh. Slowly, he conceded her point with a nod as his shoulders slumped.

Before they parted company, she gave him a hug. How he clung to her offer of comfort told her more than the proud young man would ever say about his own troubles.

Arelia left first. Looking back once before unlocking the door and stepping through it, she saw him lift a hand to touch one of the metal planets in the hanging mobile structure. The lost sorrow etched on his handsome face brought tears to her eyes. She closed the door quietly behind her.

~ ~ ~

The April sun was warm on her face as Arelia basked on the Slytherin side of the bleachers. She actually remained for the entire game for once, as the all-boy team in green and silver soundly beat the Gryffindor team in the playoff. They would move on to contest with Ravenclaw for the Quidditch Cup in May, and it promised to be a brutal match.

She sat next to Raegan Marcus in defiance of her house, but her eyes watched Carine more than the game. The blonde sat four rows below them with Kistler.

Glancing across the field, she found Kenneth on the Gryffindor side. They nodded to each other, and she thought she could see the Seeker smile. Considering everything they had accomplished in the last month, she could return the smile with confidence.

Professor Flitwick had already been disturbed by rumors of trouble in his house; Arelia and Kenneth had found him as eager as they were to address the matter with the headmaster.

The influence of Dumbledore was far-reaching and difficult to stand against. Even Fudge, the Minister of Magic, deferred to him and asked his advice constantly. A few well-chosen words in the right circles, and the Ministry jumped to chastise their Auror for her unlawful persecution of specific Hogwarts students. Professor Flitwick had even passed on the news that the proposed criminal case against Carine Lachlan had been dropped – the Minister had found the Auror’s methods of gathering information to be illegal.

Headmaster Dumbledore’s promise to look into the matter of illegal snooping personally also seemed to have cowed Professor Falchion considerably.

Carine had even warmed a little. Arelia still hoped to win back her trust in time, but for now it was enough to share a smile now and then in class.

“You appear smug,” Raegan said in her ear. “Share?”

When he reached for her hand, she laced her fingers with his. “Reflecting on our political victory.”

“Ah, but defeating the implacable Falchion via official channels is only part of the battle. I find myself the unwilling general of the Slytherin horde, facing a fight with your house that could get ugly in hallways and Quidditch pitch alike. It’s enough of a chore keeping the helm out of Richter’s hands. If only Beldon would come down with lockjaw, peace might reign.”

“That could be arranged.” Her free hand brushed his hair out of his amber eyes as he smiled at her. “Unwilling general? Rumor has it you’re quite a scrapper, ‘Decker’. Perhaps you should join Beldon in a round of lockjaw.”

“Et tu, Arelia? I may have been a roguish lad in my youth, but you must allow that time and refinement can change a man.”

“Where I come from that’s called baffling with bullshit.”

“That would be Bristol, my own port of call, my dear. I’m not lying – I don’t want this feud anymore than you do; yet many others in our houses do.”

He leaned in and kissed her, and the warmth of her response surprised her.

Sighing with dramatic flair, he proclaimed, “You are a Capulet these days, and I am your Montague. It may not be the most hopeful of analogies, but it is nonetheless accurate.”

“Except in the star-crossed lovers sense,” she teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

Raegan smiled indulgently at her, lifted their clasped hands and kissed the back of hers.

“Shoot your barbs if it spares your pride, madam, but you blush now when I kiss you and I’m not the only one who’s noticed.”

*******************************  
**Carine**  
*******************************

The common room still hadn’t emptied after ten o’clock. Carine and Serena could hear the debate through the closed door as they sat on Carine’s bed. Richter’s voice rose above the prefect’s.

“Professor Flitwick still stands by and suffers that woman to behave as if she were the head of Ravenclaw. We can’t waste time expecting him to intervene and call her down.”

“You can’t move against a teacher,” Marcus argued.

Serena touched her shoulder. “He’s getting cornered out there. You should stand with him, as a prefect. I’ll be moral support.”

“I’m tempted to let him hang.” She shifted Latimer to untangle his claws from her hair. His tail was wrapped around her throat like a necklace.

“He’s not coming through your privacy curtains like a Visigoth anymore. He’s got Arelia, and I say it’s a good match, if she can help speak against this idiocy in her own house. Forgive and forget. We need our prefects united in this mess.”

“Why do you care if our Quidditch team tries to break Ravenclaw heads?”

“Falchion’s making trouble because she can’t hunt us down with the Ministry’s blessing. My uncle was a Death Eater, Carine. Did you think her fanatics would leave me unscathed? I’ve been scared to walk to classes alone this week. Brolin is afraid for his life, and his father is being investigated at his job – legally, this time.”

“His family wasn’t involved with the Death Eaters.”

“They were under suspicion and that’s enough. Anyone suspected of dabbling in the Dark Arts is in danger. Especially you.”

“Me? That was dropped, she can’t go after me for that shit.”

“She had you down as a suspect in Hamish’s death and he was killed by a Dark Arts spell. I’d avoid late night solo patrols from now until graduation, if I were you.”

“Hamish was playing with the Dark Arts all the time; we all knew it. One of his spells misfired.”

“I believe you, but the Ravenclaws won’t. They’re damn near screaming for our blood, and they’re after Marcus as hard as you, because of his family. Can’t you forget old wars and work with him?”

“What about Snape? Couldn’t he say something?”

“Brolin said he was making a report to the headmaster. I thought he’d show up by now, but I haven’t heard him yet. Carine, please – you know Falchion is out to get the professor, too, probably more than the rest of us. You can help calm them down, they’ll listen to you.”

Carine laughed bitterly. “Maybe they used to. Now I’m just the Teacher’s Pet who can’t live up to her duty, reviled by all.”

“None of that matters now. She could use this feud to hurt Professor Snape. We can’t let her touch him.”

Carine shook her head, bemused. “You love him.” Frowning, she rose, leaning over to allow the rat to jump down onto the bed. “Don’t let him realize it.” She straightened and sighed. “Fine, I’ll go support the Hound of Hell. Come on.”

It was a nightmare trying to be heard by any of her housemates, as she assumed it would be. Nothing was discussed calmly until Professor Snape finally arrived and threatened to knock a few of the hotter heads together personally.

Carine’s lasting impression from the riotous mess was the look on Decker’s face. Her support had clearly shocked him.

She hadn’t felt safe in the middle of the angry clutch of students until Snape casually set his hand on her shoulder. It was for show, for all of them to see that she had his support – and yet the gentle grip of those long pale fingers had filled her with relief.

_I’ve never known anyone more dangerous than him – I hope he can keep us all safe from that Auror bitch._

~ ~ ~

The halls were deserted as Carine patrolled with Marcus along the fifth floor. She wasn’t sure why she had agreed to accompany him, beyond Serena spooking her out of going alone.

“Keep sharp, Lachlan,” the other prefect advised. “The Ravenclaws have been promising trouble.”

“Did you get that from Arelia?”

He paused and looked at her. “No, from that fool Beldon. You’re a strange one to mind me being with her. Engaged to Shaw, aren’t you? Despite prior commitments? Or is it just that I’ve stolen away the attention of your friend? You’ve been busy ignoring her – don’t be so shocked that she found a new Slytherin to play with.”

They had passed the statue of Boris the Bewildered. Carine stopped before the fourth door to the left of the statue, and faced him.

“Tell me, do you ply her with your refined manners or the gutter-talk you used to try on me?”

“She likes both.” He leaned on the wall with one foot on it, arms crossed. “This isn’t the time for in-fighting. Few of us understand your choices lately, but Professor Snape told us all to leave you be and deal with the problem of Falchion. I’m willing to bury the hatchet if you are.”

Carine studied him a moment in silence. “Maybe. When I’m convinced you’re not out to feed me to the wolves – or the vipers.” She turned to the door and spoke the password, stepping into the prefect’s bathroom.

“I’ll wait,” he said with a smirk, when she shot him a warning glance over her shoulder.

Carine nodded and fastened the bolt behind her. The room was only dimly lit, but she didn’t bother to light more candles in the chandelier. Stepping up to the sink, she gave the painting of the mermaid a tired smile. The image smiled back and returned to the chore of combing out her hair.

Running cold water into the sink, she wet her hands and dabbed at her face. It had been a long night, and after patrols she might have to deal with Snape, unless he was serious about not bothering her anymore.

Mixed feelings about that surprised her. She knew Kenneth would never understand it, but she couldn’t despise the Potions master for anything that had happened between them. Her housemates were right – she had entered an agreement willingly, and then failed to uphold her part of the bargain as she should have.

A tiny scream sounded to her left seconds before hands grabbed her and threw her down onto the white marble floor. Her head struck the edge of the rectangular swimming pool tub, and the flash of pain stunned her.

Then the weight of a male body pressed her down, clapping one hand over her mouth – and she froze in panic.

A splash sounded over her head, and then a sopping wet hand towel was forced into her mouth. When her arms were released, she tried to punch or claw her assailant as he wrenched her legs apart. By the time she remembered her wand, her body stiffened at the hiss of one word in her ear.

“Immobulus.” He was crouched between her knees, but she could only see a tall silhouette. Horrified, unable to move, she waited. When a wand was traced up her leg, raising her skirt, she didn’t have to wonder anymore who he was. “I was told to make you talk, Lachlan – and I will … eventually.”

Beldon reached up and pulled down her panties, tearing them to get them off. One of his hands slipped under her shirt and bra, pinching her nipple painfully. When it left her, she heard him opening his pants.

_It’s just sex,_ she thought frantically. _You can survive that. Why is Marcus just waiting out there? Oh, God – is he in on this?_

“You know, I’d rather try something new. Arelia was kind enough to mention that you weren’t so impressed with my old tricks, but I have new ones, now.” His chuckle was low and cruel. Gripping her leg and arm, he turned her abruptly onto her face.

Unable to move or scream, her mind latched onto one hopeful detail: the mermaid wasn’t in her frame – would she bring help?

Fingers touched her, and then two of them were shoved roughly inside her anus. Horror infused with the pain in her body as her vision started to blur.

He had begun to lower himself over her when they both heard a faint voice calling through the door, speaking a word of magic. When the door burst open, Beldon tried to lift his wand, but the intruder was across the floor in an instant, striking him solidly on the jaw with a fist. The Head Boy was tossed backward by the blow as if he were made of paper.

As they both passed to her left, Carine saw Marcus falling to one knee over the sprawled Ravenclaw. He had shoved his wand back in its pocket and started to punch the other boy over and over brutally. He didn’t stop until Beldon was knocked out.

Rising, he kicked her attacker’s wand away across the bathroom floor and into the empty tub. She couldn’t see him after that, but then felt his hands gently turning her over onto her back. The feel of the chilled wood of his wand in one of the hands filled her eyes with tears.

“Finite Incantatum,” he whispered, and then helped her to sit up. “Are you hurt?” She choked and began to sob, almost tearing her skirt in her haste to cover herself again. Then she heard him speak to someone else. “Get the professors, please – Snape and Flitwick. Thank you.”

Carine looked around them, frightened. “Who is here?”

“Just the painting – the mermaid – but we need the professors. This is serious shit and that bastard is going to pay for it.”

She stared down at the ring of a hundred gold taps around the edge of the pool, and the wand that lay at the bottom of it. Once, she had allowed its owner to use it to lift her skirt. His coarse fumbling then had paled against what he’d intended tonight, but the rough, panting eagerness had been the same.

Her thoughts shredded as they waited. When footsteps could be heard coming fast up the hallway, she looked up to see Snape enter the room. Flitwick was hard on his heels, a shocked expression on his kind face. Snape’s expression was lethal, but Carine wasn’t afraid of it now.

The Potions master knelt swiftly at her side. His wand gripped in one hand, the other touched her cheek gently. “Miss Lachlan, are you injured?” He swept his cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around her.

Unable to answer, she shook her head. Reaching out to clutch at him, she didn’t feel safe until he lifted her in his arms.

“I must take her to the hospital wing,” he told the other teacher.

“Yes, certainly,” the diminutive professor agreed. I will follow after shortly.”

“Mr. Marcus,” Snape ordered, his tone cold, “remain here and assist the professor in bringing along his student. The headmaster will meet us in the hospital wing, and I expect to see you there with Professor Flitwick shortly.”

“Yes, sir.”

“See that you refrain from further reprisals of your own – at this time.”

Marcus didn’t reply to that, but his glare at Beldon said a lot. As Snape carried her out bundled in his cloak, she caught the eye of her rescuer and mouthed the words, “Thank you...”

He held her gaze a moment, and then nodded once, his face grim.

**~ ~ ~**

Professor Snape paced the floor of his sitting room as he spoke. “Mr. Beldon has been expelled and will face a trial at the Ministry. I managed to argue the virtues of Mr. Marcus, as he did prevent a crime against you. For his excessive use of force – broken nose, fractured orbital bone – he’ll be spending detention time with Mr. Filch, but no other punishment will be given.”

Carine lay curled on his massive black suede couch, staring into the fire. She heard the words but didn’t have the energy to respond. When a knock sounded on his door, she winced. Tensing, she didn’t watch Snape as he went to admit his visitor.

“Mr. Shaw,” Snape said, making Carine gasp and look up. “Thank you for coming so late – or early.” Returning to her, Snape’s hand touched her shoulder. “Miss Lachlan, I will be in the other room if you need anything. Mr. Shaw is welcome to stay until first class if he wishes.”

“Kenneth,” she whispered, tears coursing down her cheeks again as he hurried to sit beside her. She reached for him and sobbed as he held her tightly.

~ ~ ~

Carine didn’t know where she was when she woke. It took a few minutes to recognize Snape’s sitting room. She’d only been in his chambers once or twice in her earlier years, for detentions. It looked exactly the same as it had when she’d researched things for him as a typical Slytherin punishment detail, with one exception.

Kenneth lay under her, holding her, as he watched her with a private smile on his face. His hair was rumpled from sleep. She answered his smile shyly, and then glanced around the room nervously, craning her neck to peer into the dark bedroom doorway.

“He’s not here.” In response to her questioning look, he added, “He said he’d be in his office and wants to see us both there before classes. I’ll wake you, if you want to sleep another hour.”

Carine shook her head. Toying with his hair, she relaxed against him again until a resigned sigh from him made her look up.

“I’ll be damned if I can figure that man out.”

She smiled. “Most who try end up with a headache.”

Kenneth met her gaze. “He actually congratulated me on our engagement when he sent for me to come down to his office. I thought he was playing with me, some sort of cruel joke. I’ve never wanted to hex a man so badly in my life.”

“I assume you didn’t.”

“He told me what happened – with Beldon – and said you needed me. I wanted to come right away, but he made me wait outside until he’d told you the headmaster’s decision about that bastard. I was too busy jumping on the idea of you in trouble to notice it in his office … but I guess Arelia was right. He is trying to help you.”

“He’s – a difficult man ... but he was never my problem, not really. My being so upset wasn’t his fault, either. I know what you think of the whole Slytherin Tutor thing, but I’ve known about it since I started school here. For my house, it’s … common, and none of us think it’s strange or evil or anything. I know now I shouldn’t have tried for it. At the time, it seemed like the smartest plan when I wasn’t sure anymore who my friends really were. I didn’t know his – habits – would dredge up all of my mess.”

“I wish you’d tell me what is bothering you, if it’s not him. I’d do anything to make it right.”

“You can’t.”

“Carine, who is the problem? Point me at it and it won’t be a problem anymore, I swear. Is it Hayden?”

She moved away from him and sat up, holding herself tightly. “No, Snape called them off.” For a moment, she didn’t know if the tension mounting in her body would make her scream or sob. _If I’m going to trust him … I have to start by trying to trust._ “You can’t fix it because the problem is already dead.”

“Ketch.”

She winced and bowed her head. “He used to … hurt me,” she answered finally, her voice a hollow whisper. “So I…”

Kenneth touched the tears on her cheeks and held her close before she could pull away. “Hush, sweetheart, it’s okay, I understand.”

Gulping, frightened, she muttered against his shoulder, “Your future wife is a murderer.”

“No.” He held her shoulders, his tone forcing her to meet his gaze. “My future wife had to defend herself against someone who wanted to harm her. Someone her family trusted to keep her safe, who then betrayed that trust.”

“But I killed him. I could have stopped him, petrified him, something –”

“It was self-defense, Carine.”

“Is the Imperious Curse a legal self-defense?” Her voice rose, becoming shrill as her inner panic built and broke loose. Kenneth was stunned to silence. “That’s what I did. He was about to use his wand on me, for Heaven only knew what sick game, so I put him under the Imperious Curse and made him walk off the top of the stairs! That bitch Falchion must have found out about it somehow, that’s why she sent Beldon after me with a tailor made agenda!”

He looked stunned and tried to recover, to help her, to make her safe. She loved him for it – but nothing would help.

“Arelia said Snape could be your best defense. Does he know about this?”

Carine felt her face drain of color. She began to shake. “No! He can’t know about this, ever! Ketch was a darling of Slytherin,” she exclaimed, breaking his hold on her and surging to her feet. “He was the Bludger God, mourned and worshipped by all! Snape would knock me into Azkaban himself for it if he knew.” She paced, agitated, and then turned in front of the open bedroom doorway to face him again. “I don’t even know what he’d do – maybe just let Falchion find a way to kill me...”

Kenneth rose, holding his hands out to her, wanting to comfort and calm her. She tried to memorize his handsome face, clouded with worry and love, in case the secret was discovered and she was taken away from him forever. Then his expression changed – afraid and frozen in shock.

A low baritone voice spoke behind her. “It appears you still don’t know who your friends are, Miss Lachlan.”

Carine whirled, her hands covering her mouth, but they couldn’t stifle the high-pitched shriek of fear that escaped her lips at the sight of Snape.

He stood in his bedroom doorway, coldly watching them, hearing every word they had spoken, every bit of her confession. Terror seized her and for a moment she feared she might faint.

A shocked silence descended over them as Carine tried to remember how to breathe. _He knows..._ She heard Kenneth stir behind her, preparing to speak. _Please,_ she begged him in her thoughts, _don’t anger him…_

*******************************  
**Severus**  
*******************************

“I watched you leave,” Shaw said in horror, anger cresting in him. “You can’t Apparate inside the school.”

As he stepped into the room, Lachlan stumbled back away from him. She ran into Shaw who supported her or she might have fallen.

“How I enter and exit my own chambers is no business of yours, Ravenclaw. Be silent. Miss Lachlan and I have a misunderstanding to sort out.”

Lachlan spoke through her fingers. “You heard – how did you –?”

“The Bloody Baron has been monitoring these chambers and reporting to me. Beyond that, you are better off without curiosity.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at her. “You are mistaken in your fears. My interest in the matter of Ketch’s death was academic at best and political at worst – damage control was needed to keep certain suspicious persons at bay concerning my teaching habits. Some at the Ministry feared I was instructing select students in the Dark Arts, recruiting them for old war efforts. Such concerns, if they became allegations, could be … troublesome. I regret that my investigations back then have fostered the impression that I would murder or incarcerate his killer, whether or not they were affiliated with my own house.”

Unable to keep quiet, Shaw asked, his voice wary, “You don’t care about her using the Imperious Curse on Ketch?”

Severus flicked his dark look at the boy and then locked stares with his prefect again. “I would have been happier if you’d used something less incriminating, for all our sakes. I am more surprised that you didn’t realize you are more useful to me than a Quidditch grunt.”

“Useful?” Shaw flared. “What – for her mind? Is that why you gave her the ‘honor’ of her special tutoring chore?”

A stunning and murderous anger fired his blood. Both youths retreated in fear when he took a step closer. “That never was your business, Ravenclaw. The young lady applied for the assignment with foreknowledge and adroit skill. She seemed to believe no other held a claim on her attentions at the time. If you thought otherwise or she’s since changed her mind, that is not my concern, nor do I care. Our agreement is between us only. Due to the bragging of a moron, it is no longer a Slytherin secret, but if you expect to grow old, I suggest you keep it as guarded as the more careful members of my house.”

Silence reigned as he tried to regain control of his emotions. Lachlan seemed unconvinced and terrified, and Shaw appeared to be more angry than afraid. He held her upper arms as she pressed against him.

Severus drew a slow, deep breath. “Your usefulness, Miss Lachlan, is your intelligence, aptitude, and ability to become one of the finest Slytherins Hogwarts has ever produced. Bound for a productive role in society, even if you only produce more Shaws, it is nonetheless a reflection on yourself, your school, and your oft-maligned Head of House. You are proof that we can be other than the blackguards they paint us. This rather rare impression may well be the key to our survival in the future, if people like ‘Professor’ Falchion continue to dog our steps and form pogroms among our peers.”

“But I thought…” She hesitated, realized her voice was barely audible and tried again. “I thought you’d kill me yourself for Hamish.”

“Miss Lachlan … Carine – you are what Slytherin needs. Raegan Marcus, Serena Kistler, and a few others, are the best of the new generation. Thick brains with sports skills I have in abundance.” A slight smile that probably looked like a sneer stretched his lips. “Mr. Marcus is all too aware of his selective status – I continue to be surprised that you are not.”

“What about the others?” she whispered.

“I don’t intend to announce your earlier confession in the common room. Having suspected it, however, I assumed it could be the root of your problems. If you had known you could trust me, I might have helped you much sooner.”

“Oh, but Serena … she’d hate me. She was almost in love with Hamish. She’s been asking me about him a lot, too.”

Severus laughed, startling them both. “Perhaps I should recant my opinion of your intellect? Miss Kistler has been spying for me, in the attempt to discover what was turning you into a sobbing fishwife. I shall tell her it is no longer necessary.” At her shocked and hurt expression, he added, “Do not hold her to blame; she was under orders – striving to help you, as I was.”

A ghost of anger colored her face. “I’m sorry, sir, that I didn’t know you couldn’t have cared less about me murdering one of your students.”

“You are one of my students,” he replied with a sneer. “I assure you, if Ketch had been extinguished by anyone other than a fellow Slytherin, I’d have pursued the guilty party to their death, with or without the benefit of Aurors. I protect my house.”

She seemed cowed by that. He turned away from them and walked to the door.

“We can continue this discussion later, Miss Lachlan, in private. For now, I have called an unprecedented meeting in my office and we are about to be late.” When he didn’t hear them following, he turned his head to glare balefully at them. “Now. Both of you.”

**~ ~ ~**

His eyes moved from one tense young face to another. The five teens gathered at his summons watched him in silence. A few of them seemed surprised at the presence of their fellows, especially the diminutive Professor Flitwick, who was seated on the worktable.

Arelia Galen, Raegan ‘Decker’ Marcus, and Serena Kistler had arrived right after the Charms teacher, who had met Severus and his hesitant companions at the door of his office.

“We have a common enemy,” Severus began. “One who threatens the lives of many Slytherins and disrupts house Ravenclaw to the point of chaos. Angelique Falchion is an Auror, otherwise she would certainly attempt to wrest official control of house Ravenclaw from Professor Flitwick. We can be sure she has only one purpose: the capture and punishment of any she views to be practicing the Dark Arts – or guilty of doing so in the past.”

Filius Flitwick cleared his throat and glanced at Galen and Shaw. “Some of you helped us to stop her campaign to use the Ministry’s backing; a fine move, certainly, and a necessary one. Yet in trying to head off the problem legally, we may have merely made her more dangerous. The headmaster and Professors McGonagall and Sprout, who are all aware of the situation, agree that this may be the case.”

Severus nodded. “Professor Flitwick and I believe she will do anything to achieve her purpose. Evidence of this is her ability to turn our former Head Boy into a fanatic criminal.”

Galen sniffed in disgust. “Beldon was already a fanatic; I bet it didn’t take a big push to make him a criminal. Sorry, Professor,” she added to her Head of House.

Marcus spoke up next. “The rest of them aren’t taking much of a push either and most of our house is all too eager to push back, sir.”

Severus smiled. _Shaw seems destined to follow in his father’s business mogul footsteps, and Lachlan is perhaps content to be no more than his wife. Yet Marcus and Galen seem made for a different path – wizard politics or some other leadership role?_

Whatever future they reached for, it was clear they both had grasped that this was intended as a meeting of equals. The others were being quiet and attentive.

Addressing Marcus, Severus replied, “Unfortunately, it comes naturally to your housemates to retaliate when threatened – without forethought. I made a bid last night for you to be named Head Boy in Beldon’s stead, Mr. Marcus, but I was overruled in favor of the Hufflepuff Alexander Silas. It seems your tendency to embrace violence yourself worked against us in this decision. The announcement will be made tonight at dinner – and you are all instructed to act surprised.”

“I believe,” Flitwick interjected, “that the headmaster’s decision was influenced by the wisdom of having our Head Boy and Girl hail from houses not involved directly in this foolish conflict.”

Severus conceded that point with a nod. “The difficulty we all face is this feud. It is Falchion’s personal set-up of a very deadly game of Wizard’s Chess. What we must do is refuse to play – and sway our houses to peace as well.”

Flitwick sighed. He looked exhausted. “If her intent is to incite members of both houses to fight to gain her ends, she’s already made a mess of things for all of us. Yet she is a member of my house and I know the root of the problem began there, in our common room. Slytherin, in large part, are responding to threat and slander as most of us would. I promise you all I will work to repair the damage she’s already caused … but I need your help,” he glanced around at them all, “to prevent her from gaining a further advantage.”

“We’ll all help, sir,” Marcus answered.

“Thank you, son. This woman is polluting Ravenclaw minds with her fanatic intolerance.” His small fists clenched. “I will not allow her to drag my house to ruin.”

Galen moved to stand near him and placed her hand on his shoulder. “She won’t, Professor. We’re united in this now – and everyone here knows the truth of the lies she’s tried to spread.”

Severus frowned. “Many on both sides believe each lie and the results could be disastrous. Miss Kistler, you had learned that some Slytherins are being targeted specifically?”

“Yes, sir. Those with family connections that were involved in any way with the Death Eaters or suspected of knowing the Dark Arts are the primary targets. Some are just being harassed, others…” She glanced quickly at Lachlan and looked away again. “Brolin has been hexed twice now by Ravenclaws for no other reason than his father’s indictment years ago. They don’t seem to care that Mr. Brolin was acquitted of all charges. I’ve been followed and threatened, too. With an uncle who did time in Azkaban, I seem to be on the list. So is Decker.”

Marcus glared around the office at each of them in turn. “My grandfather is still in Azkaban, and my father and aunt deal with the shadow of their own indictments every day. The concept of acquittals absolving guilt seems to be more archaic than current. Whether they did anything or not, of their own free will or not, I haven’t committed any crimes. I serve no one but myself, my family, and my house – and I will not be punished for any man’s sin beyond my own.”

Severus didn’t miss the expression of concern mixed with admiration on Galen’s face. It seemed other rumors were also true; his former liaisons had both chosen other mates, past the convenient excuse of old bets.

_All for the best – for both of them._ Setting a vague trepidation aside, he focused on the task at hand. “That is exactly what we hope to avoid, Mr. Marcus.”

“Yes, sir.” He took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. “I’m onboard, I’ll help play peacemaker … but it’s hard, Professor. I don’t know which they’re more upset about – my Death Eater family or my choice of companionship. The new Head Boy isn’t pleased about the latter, either, for all of his ‘Hufflepuff as Switzerland’ standing.”

He didn’t name her, but Galen stiffened. So there was some tension in that match. Severus wished his prefect luck. Arelia Galen would be a difficult woman to try to claim.

“Probably both,” he told him, just to enjoy watching Galen fume in silence. She caught his look and glared at him. Smiling wickedly, Severus turned back to Marcus. “Responding in kind isn’t the route to containment and control.” He pinned each student in turn with a penetrating gaze. “Use official channels to report grievances or inappropriate behavior of fellow students. Report them to the headmaster, the other professors, and to Mr. Filch. Many of you have underestimated his usefulness as an ally. Our surly caretaker delights in catching students breaking rules and his energies can be turned to your advantage with a little forethought.”

Flitwick hopped off the worktable, instantly forced to stare up at the rest of them. “We’ve five minutes to classes. Everyone keep your heads and report to teachers as Professor Snape said.”

“I’d like Misses Lachlan and Galen, and Mr. Shaw, to remain behind a moment, if they would,” Severus added. He ignored the inquisitive looks from Marcus and Kistler. Flitwick nodded to him and led the others out.

The door closed and their steps receded. Other footsteps, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff second years on their way to cue up for Potions class, sounded in the hall. Severus looked at Lachlan. She wilted and paled, and he knew she had guessed what he was going to say.

“Miss Galen, Miss Lachlan has a confession to make, which Mr. Shaw and I are already aware of. Let us make this damaging secret known to the people whom you should have trusted, Miss Lachlan, years ago. Then I will ask your help, defenders of Slytherin honor in Ravenclaw circles, to help me protect her. It was for her that you worked to clip Falchion’s official claws. I can attest to that woman’s ability to hold grudges personally, and therefore, I advise you all to be wary.”

The three of them stared at each other and Lachlan struggled to speak. Severus moved to the door behind his desk that connected the office to his classroom. Turning back to face them, he caught Lachlan’s gaze.

“The longer you hesitate to trust your friends, the later you’ll all be.” Pinning them each in turn with an imperious look, he left them.

**~ ~ ~**

May and the battle for the Quidditch Cup had finally arrived, though Severus had dreaded this final game.

Traditionally, it had been one of his better days for the last string of years. He sought out Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout on the opposing side and smiled thinly at their grim faces. That Slytherin had won the Cup enough years in a row to make victory a tradition had chaffed his Head of House peers and remained one of his few remaining pleasures.

Yet this game, they all feared, could be the culmination not only of the Quidditch struggle for supremacy, but of the feud none of them had been successful in squelching or even controlling.

For the sake of his house around and below him, he wore a mask of cold and calm confidence. Measures had been taken, precautions and ounces of prevention put in place. Even now, seated around them in the stands on both sides of the field, were visitors to Hogwarts: Aurors loyal to the headmaster. Some of them were parents of students present and they had vowed to keep watch and help to keep the peace. Their vigilance, though it occasionally included wary stares at him, was welcome.

“I feel like a trinket under glass,” Kistler said, her nervousness showing in the clutch of delicate fingers on her long Slytherin green skirt.

The skirt and a silver silk blouse with thin lace straps had been a barely anonymous gift that Severus was pleased to see fit perfectly, as did the expensive black ankle boots she showed off when she crossed her shapely legs. The finery was enough of a change on a girl of limited means for Slytherin tongues to wag, though discretely. Her pride in being invited to watch from the tower seats, as Mr. Marcus had for years, had enhanced the clothes further with a bright and mischevious smile.

He assumed the only students in his house not aware of the identity of her new patron were the majority of their Quidditch players – those who struggled to remember their own names each morning.

Kistler obviously wasn’t fooled; she had preened, smiled, and shown off cleavage to him, often enough to make that a certainty. Another who wasn’t fooled was Marcus, who sat on his other side; yet he was wise enough not to comment – at least not directly.

“You make a fine trinket,” the prefect told her casually. “As for being on display, they’ll stop staring after they’ve had a chance to get used to it.”

She blushed, and then leaned forward slightly to frown at him around their teacher. “No, idiot,” she replied, her tone haughty. Her voice dropped down to a whisper. “I meant about the Aurors, watching us all.”

Severus resisted the impulse to join in on their conversation as they fell to discussing the game. He watched as the players took the field. Madam Hooch began her spiel and her whistle as the balls were released made Kistler jump.

“Be calm,” he whispered to her without looking at her. “The teams know about our guests, as does Falchion. If they possess even rudimentary intelligence, they will attempt nothing.”

“Sir, most of our team lacks sufficient brains,” Marcus remarked with a snort of amusement. “Their collective IQ plummeted the instant I was tossed on the bench.”

He smiled, his eyes on the start of the game. “Indeed, Mr. Marcus, but Richter and Brolin possess enough for the rest and they’ve been instructed to inform and control the others.”

“Go for it, Adrian!” Marcus shouted at Pucey, one of their Chasers. “Thank God,” he added, and cheered with the rest when Pucey scored. Turning to face Severus, he smirked. “Tommy ought to make this easy, sir. He usually does. We’ll be papering the dungeons in victory banners in no time.”

Thomas Brolin had become their Seeker the second it was legal for him to play. This was his second Quidditch Cup game and he had caught the Snitch last year barely thirty minutes into the match. He had done it so spectacularly, that only those running illicit bets on the game had complained about its brevity.

“Look at him go!” Kistler grinned as they all watched the slender third year slice through the air around the pitch on his Nimbus like a hunting hawk.

Marcus warmed to one of his favorite subjects immediately. “Tommy’s a natural,” he informed Kistler. “In fact, he’s so advanced for his age, we keep getting accused of cheating – which is bullshit. I never had to cheat when I was playing and neither does he. Being that good at something seems hard for other houses to grasp. Right, Professor?”

Severus crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his hands in his sleeves. Marcus had a habit of not allowing him to drift and brood during a game. Despite himself, it was appreciated. He nodded once and smiled again at the rapt expression on his students’ faces as they watched the next daring play.

Lending credence to the unfounded cheating accusations was Ferris Richter’s coaching and leadership skills, as Captain and Beater. He had led the team since his third year, a choice they had never regretted in spite of his general hotheaded nature.

Following his gaze to spot their Captain, Marcus shook his head. “It’s going to suck when he graduates. I might be tempted to slug the guy now and then in the common room, but out on the pitch – damn.”

“You will be graduating yourself, Mr. Marcus – off to a bigger and brighter future.”

“Of course, but I’ll still care about the house team, sir. Have you considered Tommy as Captain in Richter’s place?”

“I have, with the team’s enthusiastic support, and they have been practicing to that end for over a year now.”

“Why don’t you go to the practices?” Kistler asked Marcus. “I always try to. Tommy’s been teaching me to be a better flyer when he has some spare time, after.”

Marcus glared down at the referees and other game officials. “It pisses me off too much since I can’t play on the house team. We have private matches sometimes, even challenge players from the other teams to a pick-up game – but this year, classes have finally become a tiny bit more important.” He tossed a saucy wink at Severus and Kistler’s shock was amusing. “The team is damn good, on and off the pitch, and they have a right to bridle at any rumors of foul play or cheating.”

“Well, yeah – Slytherins don’t have to cheat,” Kistler pronounced with pride. “We’re just better than everyone else.”

“Historically,” Severus remarked, “I cannot say that such dishonorable conduct has been unheard of in a Slytherin Quidditch team, yet the current line-up has no need of it. Richter and Brolin keep the team on their toes between them and the athletic prowess of each player is challenged to improve at every turn in practice and games alike. As for the truly dim-witted among them, this sport is the only place where they shine and gain notoriety, so they earnestly apply themselves to excel.”

Noting the smug look on his face, Marcus commented, “I could almost feel sorry for Shaw. He and his ragged crows are beat – they just don’t know it yet.”

It turned out to be a prophetic statement, as expected, but Severus didn’t reply at the time. Their venerable headmaster, who had disappeared from the Ravenclaw side’s tower seating a short time before, entered their tower and made his way down the bleachers toward them.

Wondering how much of the chatter around the pitch, in towers and the common bleachers, was focused on the headmaster’s choice of company, Severus rose and motioned for Marcus to make room on his left.

“Thank you, Mr. Marcus,” Dumbledore said, smiling. “A bracing game thus far, eh Severus?”

Resuming his seat beside him, he replied, “Yes, sir; though predicted to be short.” He had just located Lachlan sitting next to Galen in the Ravenclaw tower seats. Both girls watched Shaw’s progress in the game, gasping at the Seeker’s stunning dives and cheering at his tricks.

Dumbledore noticed his gaze. “Ah, yes. A true stroke of genius it was, having Miss Lachlan join her friend. I was speaking to them briefly and they said it was your idea. A fine show of inter-house unity in these troubled times.”

Severus didn’t respond. The last month had been a dismal failure for peacemakers, on all sides. Thanks to friendships and other ties, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students had started getting mixed up in the fights as well.

He was startled out of his reverie by a massive roar of anger from the Ravenclaw side, punctuated by booing and shouted accusations from the students, which were quickly and hotly shouted back from the Slytherins below him.

In the air over the field, close to Ravenclaw’s goal posts, both Seekers appeared to be locked together, and falling fast.

“They both went for the Snitch,” Kistler explained, “and their broom handles collided. The Ravenclaws say Tommy was Blatching, but I saw it – it was an honest hit.”

Blatching, a common foul referring to a player flying into another with intent to collide with them, was hard to call straight. It often depended on the referee’s eyes being on the two before they struck. Madam Hooch obviously hadn’t seen it, being occupied with calling a foul on a group of four Chasers.

Dumbledore started to rise from his seat. “If they don’t pull out soon…” he mumbled, his hand lifting to magically prevent them from hitting the ground.

The Seekers managed to tear out of their tangle barely in time, a mere fifteen feet from the ground. Brolin, the younger and lighter of the pair, rolled and shot upward first.

Shaw had to dodge both Bludgers, which came whistling toward him before he was fully able to recover from the tangled dive. By the time he escaped them, Brolin had shot two hundred feet into the air and caught the Golden Snitch.

~ ~ ~

When the raucous crowd had thinned, he entrusted Kistler to the escort of his prefect and remained behind with the headmaster.

“Congratulations are in order,” Dumbledore said, trying to smile. “Quite a winning streak you’ve had in these last years.”

Severus didn’t try to hide his concern. “A fact our enemies will use against us, no doubt. Madam Hooch’s final call not-with-standing, most of them have returned to the old habit of accusing us of cheating for our victory.”

“Your ‘enemies’ in this case are fellow students, Severus,” Dumbledore reminded him gently.

“All but one,” he replied with a scowl.

“Yes, quite unfortunate. We must redouble our efforts for peace. It can be done.”

“That is little more than false hope, sir. Hexes and Curses in the hallways are so common, it is hard to catch anyone at it.”

“Even for you?” Dumbledore asked, a slight and sad smile twitching at one corner of his mouth.

“I have forbidden either of my prefects to patrol alone. If the current crop of N.E.W.T. students manage to graduate in one piece next month, it is my thin hope that the feud will die out on its own. Falchion won’t have an excuse to remain the following year, as Professor Quirrel plans to return. That hasn’t changed, I presume?”

“It has not.”

“You allowed her to come here, this – blight. She could threaten many of your … plans.”

Dumbledore’s long fingers touched his sleeve at the wrist and the contact made him stiffen. He stood to break it and watched as the elder wizard rose to his feet.

“I did not know she was a zealot, Severus. We will persevere, I have faith in that. I have faith in you, too.”

Nodding once curtly, he turned away and headed for the stairs. They exited the Quidditch grounds together, but the headmaster was soon whisked away by Hagrid and Professor McGonagall. Severus had started back up to the school alone, when he stopped short.

Falchion was standing at a short distance to his left talking earnestly with several students, Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. She had ceased speaking at the sight of him and the look she gave him could have frozen the lake.

Abruptly angry, he strode over to them. The other students flanking her escaped when they saw him.

Falchion started right in. “I intend to lodge a formal complaint against your Seeker’s behavior, Professor Snape.”

“That is your right,” he responded, keeping his voice even and chilled. “In the meantime, I’ll be pleased not to disturb the Cup. It has sat in our common room so long that we’d choke the house-elves on the dust if it ever had to be moved.” He sketched a little insulting bow to her, met her hard cold eyes unflinchingly, and then turned away.

He didn’t look back – he didn’t need to. He could feel her eyes boring into him all the way back up to the school.

~ ~ ~

The common room in the dungeons was wild with celebrants. Severus endured it as long as he could. It would last long into the night, ending up in the dorm rooms of those who rarely remained in their own beds.

Brolin, the hero of the hour, was laughing as he was carried around on the team’s shoulders. Every girl present gifted him with a kiss – some demure, others more passionate than the thirteen-year-old could handle. Kistler and Lachlan rescued him from one of those, and after planting their congratulations on his cheeks, wheeled him away for another butterbeer.

Lachlan had disappeared earlier than Severus did, slipping off into her private room and carefully avoiding any glance in his direction.

When he reached his own bed, he sank down onto it and stared at the tapestry that covered the arch. The candles in the room burned lower, but the Potions master’s eyes never moved from the image of Death gathering roses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go. This is an angst-fest story; I thought I’d better remind everyone of that before we move on. The following school year will see Harry Potter arrive, so I’m afraid Severus isn’t going to have much to look forward to then. I appreciate everyone who is sticking with me on this journey. It’s about to get darker. Keep a tissue handy, and thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic) (anongrimm.tumblr.com)


	13. Tangled and Loosed

*******************************  
**Arelia**  
*******************************

“There aren’t enough poisons…”

“Raegan –” Arelia tried to comfort him, but he stepped back away from her.

“Look at them all,” he continued, his hands knotted into fists. He stalked between the rows of Snape’s deadlier ingredients in jars on the shelves. “Not one is ugly enough for that bitch.”

“Falchion’s been chastised once for using unscrupulous methods – she may not be able to hold Mr. Brolin at all, let alone have him locked away.”

“Maybe not, but don’t you get the rules of this game yet? Suspicion is all you need to be left to rot in Azkaban.”

“Is that what’s making you crazy? Was your grandfather framed?”

His bark of laughter was loud in the office. “No, he wasn’t framed, Arelia. He was guilty. He served the Dark Lord heart, mind, body and soul. My father and aunt, however, his children … they never followed him in that. He was arrested before he could disinherit them – or have them murdered – for their disloyalty. They’re coming under suspicion again now, and Falchion’s using the earlier mess to shade them as black as she can. It worked on Mr. Brolin; it’ll work on them.”

Raegan had made the rounds of the Potions master’s office, finally leaning a hip against the heavy desk. Settling with a defeated sigh, his broad shoulders slumped.

Arelia approached and held him, stroking his raven hair. “That’s why we’re here, to see what Professor Snape thinks we can do.”

“He’s just as ass-deep in trouble as they are,” he muttered. “What can he do?”

“Your confidence is admirable, Mr. Marcus.”

Both of them jumped and turned. Raegan hopped away from his slouch on their teacher’s desk.

“Sir! I’m sorry, I –”

“Didn’t hear me enter? That much is obvious.” The Potions master closed the door behind his desk with a snap. Beyond it, they could hear his class shuffling out. “The headmaster has already informed me of the arrest of Mr. Brolin. He plans to speak to the Minister of Magic himself on the matter this evening.”

“Yes, sir,” Raegan mumbled, eyes downcast.

“You are correct in your assumption, Mr. Marcus. I can do little for our Seeker’s father. My support of any under suspicion appears to be proof of their criminal leanings in too many circles these days.”

Arelia sought her lover’s hand and held it tightly. “What can be done, then, sir?”

“Leave it to the headmaster for now, both of you.”

“But sir, my father –”

“I know.” Snape sank into his chair, his arms crossing over his chest. “You know as well as I that there is nothing either of us can do for him or his sister. Now is a time for caution, Mr. Marcus; cooler heads must prevail. The feud between our houses is spreading to the others – but we must remain civilized and use our brains, not our fists.” He observed them in silence a moment before turning to the paperwork piled neatly on the desk. “Go on to your studies, both of you. Finals are next month, and N.E.W.T. exams are not simple things, even for the gifted.”

They slunk out together and headed out of the dungeons, neither able to say a word.

The halls were clogged with other students who seemed more in the mood to scrap than study. Near the entrance to the kitchens, one light voice caught their attention. The anger and desperation in it tightened Arelia’s heart. Tommy Brolin, normally a quiet and inoffensive youth, was speaking – and he had a volatile mix of students for an audience.

“My father isn’t a Death Eater! It’s a lie, spread by that holier-than-thou Shaw!”

“No doubt,” the vicious and smug voice of Richter chimed in.

“Shaw isn’t arresting people,” a Ravenclaw protested.

“Maybe your dad got locked up because he’s dangerous,” put in one of the Hufflepuff Chasers.

“Hey, Tommy,” Raegan called out, releasing Arelia’s hand to wade into the argument. “Let’s go hit the library. You wanted help with that Ancient Runes homework.”

“Don’t worry about it, Decker,” the slight Seeker replied. “I’m done here.” He marched out of the gathered crowd with his chin held high.

As Raegan glared around at the rest of them, they began to disperse.

“Play peacekeeper all you want,” Richter muttered at him as he passed. “Sooner or later, we’ll have to take Shaw down.”

“It’s got nothing to do with him, Ferris. Let it go.”

“They’re calling us cheats, Decker. If you think Shaw isn’t behind that, you’re blind. Tommy beat him – so he sicked his Auror bitch on his family.”

Arelia gasped as Raegan grabbed Richter and shoved him against the wall. His knuckles were white against the other boy’s upper arms.

“Let it go, I said. Professor Snape wants us to drop it, so drop it.” When the taller boy frowned, Raegan released him. “We have N.E.W.T.s to worry about. Isn’t that enough?”

Richter glared at him, the desire to challenge his prefect plain in his face. They stood scant inches apart. “You’re not on the team anymore, Decker. You might have been born in a nest of snakes, but you’re still not getting the kind of heat we are.”

Raegan’s glare turned lethal. “Maybe you forgot why Vaughn was given my spot. Maybe you need to remember.”

Richter flushed with anger, but as Raegan’s hands fisted, he seemed to reconsider pushing the argument. A few breathless moments later, he turned on his heel and walked away, his shoulder striking Raegan’s.

Arelia stepped up to Raegan, a hesitant smile on her face. His mischievous smirk answered it, and before she could avoid him, he’d grabbed her as he had the Quidditch player and pressed her between his hard body and the marble at her back.

Her gasp sounded loud in the abruptly empty hall. “You shouldn’t provoke that one,” she admonished him.

“He needs his ass kicked,” he murmured, lowering his lips to her jaw, “and you love it – don’t deny it.”

Grinning fiercely, she strained against his hold on her. “Let me up, Raegan, we’re already late.”

“Make me,” he said, his muscles tensing to force her to stand rigidly – as helpless as she loved to be in his grip.

Arelia yelped in surprise when big hands reached to tear Raegan away from her, throwing him down to the marble floor.

“She said to let her go.” Xander Silas stood between them as Raegan slowly climbed to his feet with murder in his amber eyes.

“The new Head Boy wants all the girls, huh?”

“Xander, wait,” Arelia interrupted. “You don’t understand –”

“I understand enough.”

Raegan hadn’t quite regained his footing when the Hufflepuff Captain punched him full on the jaw.

The Slytherin prefect reeled but didn’t fall. “Just getting my fingers wet in the Ravenclaw juice, Hufflepuff. Don’t make it your business. Yours are dry by now.”

“I knew he was trash, Arelia. Keep back,” Xander told her.

“She likes trash, Silas. She likes it dirty.”

“Raegan, don’t – he doesn’t know –”

“Know what?” Xander shouted. “That he likes to force girls?” Another punch landed squarely in the Slytherin’s stomach, staggering him backward.

“That was Beldon’s game, not mine. I only do it when they ask me to,” Raegan taunted. He wasn’t trying to fight back yet.

“Xander please,” Arelia begged, reaching to take his arm.

“Don’t defend him,” he answered, and struck again, hitting Raegan in the mouth.

The prefect lifted his hand to his face, feeling blood from the split in his lower lip. “First blood, you sanctimonious farmhand; that’s all you get.”

Raegan was a blur of motion when he attacked and with one punch to the chin, Xander was knocked to his knees. Three more hits in succession had the larger boy groaning on the marble.

Arelia jumped into the fray, grabbing his shoulders as a feminine shriek split the air behind them.

“Don’t you touch him!” Haurgaard screamed, aiming a kick at Raegan.

Arelia managed to pull him back in time. The pretty blonde gave up on her attack and dropped beside Xander, her face frantic.

“You better help him,” Raegan told her. “He’s forgotten who he’s got claim to.”

“Claim?” Arelia spun him to face her. “No one has claim on me but me.” Glaring at him, she turned and stalked away.

Raegan caught up to her in the prefect’s bathroom, using his wand on the bolt. She whirled and stopped whatever stupid thing he’d planned to say, apology or otherwise.

“You moron! How does beating up the Head Boy help us? Didn’t you hear a word Snape said about not using your fists?”

“Hey – Switzerland swung first. I let him get a fair few hits in, too.”

“We’re supposed to be trying to quell the feud, not make a new one with Hufflepuff! We could have explained –”

“You tried. He wasn’t real forthcoming with the benefit of the doubt, was he?”

Arelia tried to glare at him, but the sight of his bleeding lip wouldn’t let her. “Here, we have to clean you up.” She turned to grab a washcloth from the pile on the counter and wet it in the sink, ignoring the surprised look on the mermaid painting.

“I’m fine,” he said, his hands stroking her arms, his body pressing into hers from behind. “Besides, that farm boy knows he’s supposed to be avoiding fisticuffs as much as I am. Odds are, he’ll keep quiet, and instruct his bimbo to follow suit.”

Facing him, she dabbed at his lip with a corner of her washcloth. “I could have done without you dragging my preferences into it.”

“At least I took the time to find out what they are and indulge you with them to your black heart’s content without judgement or quibble. Far better than trying to shove you into a scullery marriage while pretending all you want is babies and hay in your hair.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I know.”

He grabbed her hips and hoisted her up to the countertop. She attempted to clean the blood until his fingers bunched her robes and uniform skirt up, finding their way past all other cloth obstructions in moments.

When he moved back a step, his hands snaking off her underwear and then spreading her thighs, she closed her eyes. The washcloth was clutched in her fist and it soaked his uniform at his shoulder as she clung to him. When he entered her, she cried his name as the water ran on, unnoticed, behind her.

~ ~ ~

“Xander?”

“What?”

“Thanks for meeting me.”

Arelia stepped into the Astronomy Tower to face her former beau. He had agreed to meet her, but he didn’t look like he was in the mood to forgive Raegan for his behavior, real or imagined.

“Say what’s on your mind. I have to study for N.E.W.T.s, and Lissette is waiting for me in the library.”

“You asked her not to talk about the fight, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I didn’t see how talking about it would do any good and probably could do a lot of harm. You’ve obviously fallen for that bastard. I shouldn’t have started it, but I thought he was –”

“I know, and I’m sorry. That’s just a sort of game we play. I never told you because … well, you didn’t want to hear about him.”

“I still don’t.”

“Xander, I know you wanted something very different, but I’m not the girl you thought I was. I can’t play the sweet country wife, and I think you’re better off with Lissette Haurgaard.”

“So do I, now.”

“I wanted to talk to you because that stupid fight happened due to the fact that you didn’t know about us, not how we are. That’s all I wanted to say. Raegan and I – we’ve become a sort of dysfunctional couple lately, but he wasn’t trying to do anything I wasn’t willing to allow.”

The handsome blond winced. “I don’t understand how you could let…” He frowned. “It’s none of my business, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Arelia, I care about you –”

“Yes, but we’re not together,” she interrupted. “I don’t feel the same way or want the same things. I’d like to be friends – I think with everything going on, we all need every friend we can get. For this, whatever was between us … I’m with Raegan now, and I expect you to respect that.”

“‘Raegan’? Now you know why they call him ‘Decker’.” His fingers touched the livid bruise on his chin briefly. What story had he given to explain it? “I never thought you’d approve of that … that kind of person.”

“Maybe you never knew me.” She took a step closer as he shook his head in disbelief. “There’s a lot more important stuff going on now, Xander. We need to be united against those who want to pull this school apart.”

“Falchion, I know. The headmaster spoke to me about her, after I was named Head Boy.”

“She’s after Professor Snape, but she’ll take anyone she possibly can who is suspected of Dark Arts dabbling down with him.”

“I’m not sure rallying to save Snape is a cause I can get behind with enthusiasm.”

“If you care about Hogwarts, you’ll get behind it. People could get seriously hurt, Xander – or worse.”

He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “I know, I know. I’ll do what I can, okay?”

Arelia smiled as she turned to leave the room. “Thanks.”

“Arelia?”

“Yes?”

“Do you love Decker?”

Surprised by the question, she whispered, “I don’t know,” and quietly closed the door.

*******************************  
**Carine**  
*******************************

Books covered the huge bed, some open, some closed and slanting into fallen piles. Notepaper crinkled under her back as Carine stretched. “I think I’m lying on it,” she answered the smiling Kenneth.

The Room of Requirement had been transformed by their mix and match needs into half love bower, half study room. The Ravenclaw Seeker was lying beside her with his head propped on more books.

“Well, if it’s not too crumpled, I should drag it and my carcass to the library. I promised Shane I’d help him with that essay and after this afternoon, I’ll be lucky to remember a word of the topic without mine to go by.”

“He’s a fifth year, isn’t he? God, I almost wish we were. I’d much rather take O.W.L.s again than N.E.W.T.s. Not Arelia, though – she’s slobbering for a real academic challenge.”

“I’m happy to see the two of you getting along again.” He leaned over to kiss her and then got up and began to dress. “You’re still friends with Kistler?”

“Yeah, more or less; I think she’s guessed that I’m not ‘tutoring’ anymore, and it offends her on some Slytherin honor gut level. Weird, since I think she’d rather keep him for herself.”

“So you’re not – doing that anymore?”

Her smile faded. “I haven’t – and he hasn’t asked. I’m still technically the Slytherin Tutor, but he hasn’t – hasn’t asked.”

~ ~ ~

Carine patted the tapestry cheek of Barnabus the Barmy when she left the room. Kenneth was still dressing inside, after she’d interrupted his efforts one more time. As she made her way down to the dungeon level, another student fell into step with her.

Glancing at the hulking male, she winced. “What do you want, Hayden?”

“Call me your escort.”

“Thanks, but it’s still afternoon and Beldon’s gone.”

“He’s not the only creep out for Slytherin blood … or anything else.”

“Don’t you have N.E.W.T.s to study for – at least one?”

When they reached the foot of the dungeon stairs, Hayden turned and pushed her into the wall. The cold stone was no match for the look in his eyes.

“Hey!”

“You got some answering to do,” he told her.

“I don’t have to do shit, you moose. Let go.”

“I just got slapped with detention again, by Snape, cause I was ‘bothering little girls’. He’s in a right mood these days, isn’t he? Cranky. Not getting the goods anymore, maybe.”

To her horror, he shifted and held her with one hand as he worked the other into the waistband of her jeans.

“Stop it!” She struggled uselessly as his fingers touched her panties. Thankfully, the jeans were too tight for much else.

Pulling his fingers free, he sniffed them. “Smells like Ravenclaw.” He shoved his fingers under her nose. “Yeah? You think it does?”

As he shifted again, she got her wand free and threatened him with it. The hulk backed off a step and glared.

“You pig,” she whispered. “I ought to –”

“You ought to put your wand down,” Snape’s voice interjected. Both Slytherins turned guiltily to face their Head of House. “Before you have an unfortunate accident.”

“Sir, he was –”

“I saw what he was and where. Mr. Hayden, we already have an appointment this week. I think I shall add to that. Tuesday night and Saturday afternoon, in my office. Do – not – be – late.”

They watched Hayden disappear down the corridor, an angry mumble barely audible under his breath.

“Thank you, sir.”

“I wish to meet you in your chamber in five minutes, Miss Lachlan. Do not allow any other housemates to detain you.”

“Yes, sir,” she muttered, but with worry instead of resentment. The Potions master swept off toward his chambers. _Oh, no – what if… Just go, idiot. Don’t tick him off by dawdling._

Carine got to her room before he did, but when he didn’t arrive, she picked up a textbook and began to study to settle her nerves. Mere moments later, she jumped when his hand appeared in her vision, holding a glass of firewhiskey.

Looking up from her D.A.D.A. book, she tried to give him a charming smile. “Did you get detained?”

“I’ve set aside the afternoon to discuss your problems concerning Ketch.”

“Oh.”

“You’ve begun using the Room of Requirement as I suggested?”

“Yes, sir. Everything is fine.”

“You still have the nightmares.”

“Yes,” she whispered, closing her textbook and setting it aside. She took the glass he offered and drained it in one gulp.

“We are going to employ Veritaserum in the effort to help you regain your repressed memories. Used in tandem with Legilimency, we should be able to uncover the damage.”

“Do I have a choice?”

He smiled as he took the glass from her, moving to replace it on the mantle. “Not anymore.”

~ ~ ~

Carine sobbed into Snape’s chest as he watched her dredged memories, his wand held firmly in his hand.

She knew it was stupid to feel shame; he already knew it all, had called it out of her defenseless mind over and over – but the shame heated her face, unabated.

Hamish had known and agreed with the old family tradition of a virgin bride – so when he’d raped his little cousin, he’d taken her anally – to keep her pure.

In the beginning, it had been an outlet for hungers he couldn’t satisfy elsewhere: sex, and the love of overpowering another. Later, when his explorations into the Dark Arts grew more intense, she had been a convenient lab rat. Eventually, when physically overpowering her began to bore him, he’d started putting her under the Imperious Curse, making her behave like the wanton lovers he’d dreamed of but never attracted.

Sometimes, when she threatened to tell her parents, he would torture her pet white rats, a succession of them over time, with hexes and the Cruciatus Curse. Once, he’d raped her while subjecting her to that curse, in small bursts, over and over – using it when she tried to fight him.

They’d grown, and Hamish became a popular Quidditch Beater, lusted after, desired, and feared. He forgot her for a while – but only a while. The other girls were strong and opinionated Slytherins, offended by his baser games. Once he began to dabble in his sick pastimes, they moved on. Left alone after word had spread, he’d fallen back on his cousin, who knew better than to fight what he wanted. She knew what she’d get.

“Stop it, please!” she cried out. “Please … please stop…”

“Miss Lachlan? Carine … open your eyes.”

She obeyed but saw nothing but black cloth in the gathering gloom. “Professor? Is it over?”

His hands lifted her, gathering her into his lap. She collapsed against him instantly and sobbed.

“Yes, it is. Now that you’ve faced it, you must learn to process it and reach beyond it. You are equipped to heal yourself now.”

Carine sniffed. “How – how did you…? The serum, and Legilimency, but…”

“A charm, for memory recall, provided by Professor Flitwick.”

“Oh, God … he doesn’t –”

“No, he knows nothing of your problems. Though he was eager to help when I suggested such a charm could assist you in dealing with them.”

“You never cared about Hamish so much, did you?”

“He was a dolt attempting to be a scholar. He wanted power, but most of the Dark Arts he tried to study he could not perform. By the time he discovered that Quidditch could give him what he wanted more easily, he was in too deep to give up the tastes he’d acquired. I did not know of his abuse of you, but many others reported him to me with complaints of aberrant behavior. If you had come to me, I would have helped you then.”

“I guess I never knew who my friends were.”

“I never did at your age.”

Carine sat up to look at him. It wasn’t until then that she noticed that the candles had burned low, leaving the room nearly pitch dark. The professor’s face was a study in shadows.

“I should make up the fire,” she whispered.

He moved his arm and spoke a charm to light the wood, his wand showing in the abrupt flare of light and heat. Another charm took the heat away and left them with the light and a cooling air.

She looked into his eyes and felt her stomach clench with something that was not fear. All of her dread about him was draining away to be replaced by a growing soft gratitude and worry for him.

“Sir, if you wanted…”

“No. I release you from your obligation to me.” His finger pressed against her lips, stopping her nervous protest. “The others need not know it. You must conquer your fears, and you cannot do that as my consort.” As he shifted, she slipped off his lap to sit beside him. “Also … whatever I may think of Mr. Shaw, he seems to be good for you.”

“But –”

“Miss Lachlan, May is nearly over. June, and N.E.W.T.s, are bearing down on us all. I think I shall be too busy to miss your company much, with a crop of O.W.L.s students added to the mix as well. Should I find any spare time, I’m sure Falchion will find a way to fill it, indirectly or not.”

“That’s just it – you’ll be insane in a week without an outlet of some sort.”

His smile in the firelight was amused, and turned his stern and forbidding features handsome. “Outlets will have to wait for next year. If I survive so long, and remain out of prison.”

“You will – you’re indestructible. But could I still argue?”

“Having destroyed your fear of me, I suppose I must allow it.”

“We still could – if you would … be nicer?”

“I believe you have Shaw for that.”

“Is it so bad? I guess you’re callous so that the tutors don’t fall for you, but … you don’t have to worry about that. I mean, you know, I’m … spoken for. You are a passionate man – I know ‘em when I see ‘em, you know. Maybe if we could be … nice ... it’d be okay for both of us?”

“I’m beginning to regret feeding you that serum.” He held up a hand to stop her interruption. “I told Miss Galen once that if one intends to engage in something, one ought to be able to say the word. You are speaking of more than passion; a mutual sharing, and a level of intimacy beyond mere lust – in short, a sentiment more akin to love. That is an intimacy I cannot indulge in, nor will I explain myself.”

“Oh. Well, it’s a shame.” Answering his dubiously raised eyebrow, she added, “When you’re not being a moody bastard, you can appear downright handsome. It’s a shame to waste it now that I’ve discovered it.”

“I think you will find your future relations with Shaw to be far smoother if we do not. Also, I find this new fearless personality to be rather disturbing.”

Carine smiled. “It’s your fault.”

“Admittedly, yes. The answer is no. Next year will be soon enough. For now, we must attempt to stay one step ahead of our enemies.”

She chanced a teasing smirk. “I know one candidate who can’t wait to apply for the job.”

“That one already has it – again, if we all survive that long.”

“Maybe she could start early?”

“I still possess my rules, Miss Lachlan, and they are rooted in sound wisdom.”

“Sir, what did you mean about not knowing who your friends were at my age?”

“That is another area I am not comfortable explaining.”

Carine reached out and touched his black sleeve. “Please? I won’t tell a soul.”

He turned slightly to face her, a resigned look in his eyes. “I was heading for the service of the Dark Lord, after a life of malcontent and misery. I had a friend … who tried to advise me to a different path. Yet we had fallen out of favor with one another years before that, and I would not listen. Power was all I cared about then – happiness, the rabble’s cure-all, was the least of my goals. Having never truly known it, I suppose I couldn’t trust it to be a worthwhile alternative.”

“A life of misery?”

“I had a – difficult father.”

“Oh.” Her head bowed, unable to meet his dark gaze.

“It is the reason I know the damage that buried guilt and shame can do. Let it go, and let yourself heal.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Carine – call me Severus.”

Her gaze flicked back up to meet his, shocked at his words. “Okay.”

He rose to his feet, gripping his wand. “Good evening,” he whispered.

Carine stood quickly. “Sir – I mean, Severus…?”

“What is it?”

She didn’t say a word. Her throat felt thick, and it might have been impossible in that moment to speak at all. She stepped up to him, and when he didn’t retreat, she held him close.

His arms encircled her, held her gently a moment, and then released her. She felt tears slipping down her cheeks as she watched him disappear through the arch on the wall. He backed through it with his face turned to hers, and the pain in his black eyes made her wince.

~ ~ ~

“I’ve never understood you,” Kistler said as she paced in front of Carine’s fire the following evening. “I knew you stopped, I knew it. Why did you ever try to be the Tutor in the first place?”

“Serena… I can’t tell you how many times I asked myself that through this whole year. But it’s okay – he understands. He even suggested the Room of Requirement trysts.” Carine stroked Latimer’s head with a fingertip. “Besides, I have just as much right to be pissed at you – spying on me, pretending you loved Hamish, mixing me up while playing ‘last friend in a storm’?”

“I told you, Snape ordered all that – and I’m not pissed, I’m frustrated. He’s being driven crazy with all this, worse than ever. The Tutor is supposed to make life bearable, not be an added problem.”

“Have you made up your slogans and stickers yet? The bidding starts in a few months.” Sighing at the redhead’s glare, Carine put the rat down and stood to face her. “I have an evil plot to discuss with you.”

“A what?”

“It’s a game I’ve been playing with Arelia for years. It’s called ‘Evil Plot’ and it’s all about getting into mischief for fun. The last one was sort of a bust, but this one you’ll like, I guarantee it.”

~ ~ ~

Walking past the tapestry of Barabus the Barmy for the third time, staring at the blank bit of wall beside it as she passed, Carine concentrated on what, and who, she needed to find. The polished door of the Room of Requirement soon appeared, and when she opened it, Kenneth was waiting for her.

“You seem happier than usual,” he whispered, smiling. “You’re almost smug. What’s up?”

Carine melted in his arms, letting his love take her away from the world. In the moment that she touched him, and felt his response, she knew Snape had been wise in refusing her the night before. He had helped break her horror and perhaps it was a natural response, not to mention charged by medicinal influence, to want to share a deeper experience with him. Yet Kenneth had shown her how she preferred love and sex to be, and she couldn’t be casual or comfortable with anyone else.

_Snape will be okay – once he gets over being angry, anyway. This is one evil plot that’ll be good for what ails him, whatever it is. _Her lips at Kenneth’s earlobe, she nipped it before answering. “I’m with the man I love and I’m helping a friend to be with hers. Just call me Cupid.”

“Cupid?”

“A mythical creature do-dad I read about in Muggle Studies. He’s a flying baby who shoots people with arrows.”

“Uh, for no reason?”

“So that they’ll fall in love.”

His expression was so cute, she couldn’t answer it. Laughing, she kissed it instead.

*******************************  
**Severus**  
*******************************

_You released her – you cannot go back on your word._

Severus drained his glass and refilled it again. With a swish and flick of his wand, he charmed the whiskey glass to refill on its own.

Replacing his wand in its breast pocket, his fingers stroked the threads of the tapestry in his bed chamber.

_Temptation is removed, of course. She is with Shaw._ Sure he wouldn’t disturb her for once, he swung the tapestry out and drew his wand again, tapping inside the painted arch once. “Visus.”

As the stone arch became a window, he was surprised to see Lachlan, asleep in her bed. The firelight was low, the chamber almost dark. Her long curling hair covered her smooth bare back, the sheets bunched and half-revealing her supple curves.

Severus didn’t question why she had changed her mind about meeting her fiancé. Whatever Shaw’s opinion on the subject, this young woman was owned by none but herself.

_She was ready to offer herself before – out of gratitude for my help … or something more?_ Frowning, his left hand squeezed into a fist against the stone. _You are a fool … more than that you do not want._ Yet the image of her infused his body with the unavoidable proof of what he did want. _In this dim light, her gold hair appears almost auburn._ His heart constricted painfully at the thought. _The years are many since you saw her this way… Would Lachlan ever understand? No. She doesn’t need to, and if she opens to me, it is her will, and not the breaking of my word._ His fist opened to hover over the image, as the wand was raised again. “Cataracta.”

He moved through the cold air of the Portcullis Charm as silently as ever. Lachlan did not stir, and her ever-wary rat seemed to be busy elsewhere.

Not wishing to startle her, he sat at her side and whispered her name. She moved slightly and lazily lifted a wand he hadn’t seen before in her hand. With a whisper he barely heard, she aimed it at the dying fire and plunged the room into darkness.

Sitting up, her fingers found his face and her lips pressed against his hungrily, answering the unasked question as she fired his blood.

She helped him shed his clothing with an air of desperation he’d never felt from her before. Taking her wand from her, he set them both down on the dresser over his piled clothes and slipped under the blankets with her.

Lachlan didn’t speak and he didn’t need to. He took her urgently, without much care for love play. A frantic coupling, it was born out of his fears and emptiness, and the deep chaotic need at his core so long denied.

It was quickly over, and he fell onto his back, his breath labored. Yet his intention of leaving as quickly died when he felt her curl up close, one fist at his shoulder, the other under his jaw. Her head with its heavy spill of hair lay warm on his chest, and he drifted off into sleep within moments.

~ ~ ~

Severus woke slowly. It wasn’t yet dawn, but he’d remained here longer than was prudent already. Lachlan wasn’t in the bed, but he could hear her close by. Soon the chill in the room lessened as the sound of a fire crackled.

She returned to him and kissed him, obviously intent on beginning again. Everything about her seemed different as well: her poise, confidence, and even the skill with which she touched him.

He didn’t startle when she stroked his cheek with her wand; he’d heard her pick it up to tend the fire. Shortly, she began surprising him in earnest, using tricks he hadn’t experienced in years as she slipped down his body and took his cock into her mouth.

Her thumb pressed and kneaded at the skin beneath his scrotum, driving astounding sensations of pleasure through his body as her mouth worked, needing no help from hands to manage his length. Her other hand gently toyed with the scrotum, the overall effect rewarding her swiftly with his seed. Swallowing adroitly, she turned him onto his stomach and began to massage the tense muscles of his back until he was almost asleep again.

When she coaxed him onto his back once more, she teased his eager sex to life and then straddled him. With his eyes closed, he reached for the full breasts as she began to move over him.

Her movements were so familiar, they sparked memories. Before he could shy away from them, he wallowed in them, the image of the slender redhead, smiling down into his eyes, only hurting him a little in the midst of such pleasure. She knew how to wait, to resume, to work his body into a frenzy without culmination, the ecstasy going on and on.

“You amaze me,” he breathed. “If I’d known…”

Lachlan didn’t answer, but changed her motion to a faster bucking downward thrust. It pushed his tenuous ability to wait into orgasm instantly. Crying out with it, he lay gasping beneath her as her hands and hair struck his chest.

His eyes opened to see a flood of dark auburn hair curtaining a pale oval and smiling face. He blinked a moment, his heart racing, but it wasn’t a dream.

Confusion filled his mind for a few breaths. Then he felt the gentle tendrils of Legilimency stroking through his thoughts, and realized he had felt it before, in the midst of their copulation. Horrified, his Occlumency defenses slammed down as his body reacted. Shifting, he pulled her off and beneath him, his hands clenched on her upper arms, hard enough to bruise.

“Kistler.” His voice had turned cold, the silken hiss they all feared.

“If you’d known,” she replied, “you’d still be left wanting.”

No remorse showed in her eyes … and no fear. His hands tightened just to fracture the look of calm on her face. She winced, but the smile remained.

“Little fool,” he hissed the words.

“Hurt me if you want. I don’t care how rough you are or how gentle. If you want a wanton lover or a simpering coward, I can play any role you like. I know some of your secret desires now, and how to make you pant to have them.”

He stared down at her in shock but her expression was not malicious or even triumphant. His thoughts spun in confusion and sickening panic at the thought of another person inside his mind.

“Never fear, Severus Snape. I won’t harm you or share your secrets – quite the opposite. I vow to be yours, to be anything you want.”

“Lachlan –”

“You’ve let her go.”

“You aren’t of age.”

“I turn eighteen in July. Close enough, don’t you think?”

“I don’t need this –”

“Don’t be a fool. You crave it.”

“There’s enough trouble – the feud, Falchion…”

“That’s why you need it. No one but the two of us, and the real Tutor, knows about it. Carine was grateful to you, for allowing her to have her lover, and for helping her. I’m her gift to you, in return for yours.”

Severus released her abruptly and sat up, his head sinking into his hands. She didn’t leave him in peace, rising to her knees to pull him to her. He stood, breaking her light hold on him.

“Playing games. I do not care for surprises, Miss Kistler.”

She lay back in the bed, her legs slightly opened, her arms folded behind her head. The smile and her emerald eyes pained him. “Call me Serena. I intend to call you Severus – at least while we’re in this room.”

“You assume I can find no fit punishment for your behavior? Or that I will not?”

Laughing, she turned onto her stomach. “Punish me if you want.” Looking over her shoulder at him, she spread her thighs. “I want you to.”

His mind seethed, but his body responded to her prone and inviting position in moments. “Sex can be cruel,” he threatened, his voice turning silken.

“Do your worst, Severus. I want you that way, too – and any way you desire.”

Outraged, he took her in anger – but she was as equal to it as she’d claimed. Somehow, in the midst of trying to hurt her, he simply began to enjoy her frantic heat. Soon enough, he collapsed over her, pressing her into the bedclothes beneath him. Her breath came in ragged gasps, but he didn’t ease his weight from her.

“This is a foolish mistake,” he whispered at her ear.

“Severus, I love you – I have for years. I don’t care what you do, just let me give you my body. You need me … deny it or not, you do.”

He closed his eyes. Her scent was everywhere, drowning his reason. “God help me, I do…”

~ ~ ~

The sight of her curled on one end of his couch, a book open under her eager expression, was enough to spark his desire again.

He had slept beside her until dawn woke them both and he had retreated through the spelled arch.

Shaken to his core, he had barely paid attention in classes throughout the day, yet what had happened couldn’t be ignored or set aside. Serena Kistler had touched him in ways he couldn’t deny or avoid. She’d tricked him, violated his mind with Legilimency – but her skill, her flesh, her hunger – they burned his anger to cinders. Arelia and Carine had found their comforts in others, and this one had found hers in him.

After classes, she had appeared in his office and that smile had led him into risks he hadn’t taken since coming to Hogwarts. She had laughed, and taking him by the hand, led him into the Potions classroom, to take her as she clutched at his podium. The doors had not been locked, and any student or teacher might have wandered in and discovered them.

A vague panic had made his choice for him – to bring her back to his chambers under the pretense of an early detention. Encountering others in the hall, she had dissembled perfectly, assuming the air of a Slytherin offended to find herself chastised by her normally permissive Head of House.

_I may be well-matched,_ he thought as he watched her read. _She plays her roles, as promised, exquisitely._

The book she held was one of the most dangerous volumes in his collection, a seventh year text from the Durmstrang Institute. When she selected it, she had called it ‘light reading’, and given him that sly smile before he’d left to meet a detention student in his office. Returning to find her still engrossed in it, he was tempted to simply observe her.

Yet at the same time, the mere sight of her inspired hunger. In her arms, he had been able to forget the vicious house feud that threatened to tear the school apart. She had even dispelled his nightmares, chasing away the horror and pain of his past. It was baffling. She was only a girl.

“I don’t understand it,” he whispered.

She looked up, closing the book. “You don’t have to.” That smile.

“I have been plagued with memories, dreams … guilt.”

“I know.” Setting the book on the coffee table, she rose and came to him, sighing when his arms encircled her. “I saw her in your mind – but you can’t punish yourself forever.”

“You are so like her,” he said, his fingers in her thick red hair.

“We don’t look alike. It’s just the hair and eyes. We’re nothing alike, either. I’m a wanton hussy – she was a good girl by what I saw, in spite of all the tricks she knew.”

“How did you put the horror at bay?”

“You know how. Legilimency. Call up other things, and,” her hands slipped up to his shoulders, her face tilting up for a kiss, “distract you with mind-numbing pleasure.”

“Serena…” He lowered his lips to hers and felt the fire rise between them once more.

~ ~ ~

_Dawn. June._ Severus groaned and held the warm body of his lover closer.

She stirred and kissed him. “I’m so glad I’m a sixth year – no O.W.L.s, no N.E.W.T.s, just a few easy tests and more studying.”

“How fortunate for you.” He released her and sat up. “I, however, have all of it to look forward to.”

“You’re such a grump in the morning.” Smiling, she pulled him back down over her. “I can stop that frown.”

They entwined until they were in danger of never getting to class in time. Leaving her in the bathtub alone, Severus sat on the couch in his thin dark green bathrobe. He started the fire and then began flipping his wand between his fingers. Staring into the flames, his thoughts unraveled.

“I thought you were worried about being late?”

She stood in the doorway of his bedroom dressed in her proper school clothes, the green and silver tie knotted over the black robes. Her hair was pulled back and braided in a thick herringbone.

“You are beautiful,” he breathed the words.

“Do you love me yet?”

The question was reflex now, his answer always teasingly in the negative. She pouted at his predicted reply and sat beside him, her fingers opening his robe before she slipped to her knees on the rug at his feet.

“I should get dressed,” he protested.

“Should you?” She smiled before taking him into her mouth, her tongue lashing at the head of his cock, its tip teasing against the opening there.

Her question echoed in his mind. _Did he love?_ A fear rose and crested in him at the thought of it, threatening the delicious pleasure she gave. _Could I be such a fool as to love? To risk … everything. Yet my life is empty and wasted as chaff – without her._

The sublime pursuit of pleasure stole him away from troubling thoughts – though he would not begin this day taking from her without giving in return.

Grabbing a fistful of her braid, he pulled her head back forcefully. Her gasp was laced with heat, her emerald eyes on fire with it.

He lifted her bodily as he rose and laid her back onto the couch, shoving at her robes and skirt. The place of comfort was bare, wet, unobstructed and eager for him. He shoved his cock inside her body quickly, his thrusts in time with her cries.

Somewhere in the rhythm they made, the question still pounded through his mind. She clutched at him as her climax washed over her again and again. As he joined her, he cried out over her, but neither of them knew if the word was ‘yes’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of Carine’s Evil Plots finally worked! There are three chapters left to go. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic) (anongrimm.tumblr.com)


	14. Hidden Secrets and Buried Lies

*******************************  
**Arelia**  
*******************************

She had looked forward to this week all year and last year, too. Yet when N.E.W.T.s finally arrived, Arelia could barely enjoy them without worrying that violence between her house and Slytherin might break out at any moment, even during the tests.

Now, sitting in the converted Great Hall for her D.A.D.A. exam, the last one she had at the end of the grueling week, she was actually able to relax and enjoy the experience. After all, most of the Slytherins around her, with few exceptions, didn’t know the material well enough to hex her with any of it.

One of the exceptions wouldn’t, of course. Arelia had to resist the temptation to look back at Raegan. Some idiot might decide to accuse her of cheating, and they didn’t need more of that.

Accusations had already been flying for the last month and a half, mostly concerning the Quidditch Cup match.

Turning her test over and setting her quill down when she’d finished, she looked up at the author of most of the strife.

Professor Falchion had observed her throughout the exam, and when their eyes met, the Auror did not glance away. The woman’s gaze was cold, intense, and a little alarming.

_Is she trying to decide how I might taste?_

A disappointing percentage of her peers were upset that she had chosen to be with ‘Decker’ Marcus in general, but for Falchion, it appeared to be a betrayal she was prepared to take personally.

When they were excused at last, Raegan approached her with the arrogant swagger she had once found so repellant. Now, watching his body, it made her melt. She didn’t fear the glares and mutterings of the students around them if he was at her side; not one of them would dare challenge her lover’s fists.

_That’s not supposed to be hot or a check in the plus column, _she chided herself, stifling a sigh. _And yet..._

“Didn’t you say this exam was supposed to be difficult?” he asked her, his breezy tone and sneer making her smile.

“It was; just not for us.”

“Admit it – my brain is one of the innumerable reasons you love me.”

“You’re insane. I despise you.” She stepped closer, well aware that Falchion still watched them. “You disgust me,” she added, her voice a sibilant whisper.

His eyebrow rose. “Meet me in the prefect’s bathroom, and I’ll disgust you again.”

“Count on it.” Turning on her heel, she gave a smirking nod to the Auror and led the way.

~ ~ ~

The floor was awash as Raegan forced her back against the edge of the overfilled tub again. She clung to him desperately, belying her teasing protests. When their passion was sated again, she laid her head on his chest to listen to his racing heartbeat as he held her against him in the slowly calming water.

“Good thing we piled our clothes by the sink,” he whispered. “Our shoes are going to need to be charmed dry.”

Arelia smiled but didn’t move. They’d have to leave soon enough; she could already hear voices outside the bolted and spelled door.

“That’s Tommy,” Raegan said, concern in his voice. “And Shaw.” He released her and pulled himself quickly out of the tub.

Arelia enjoyed the sight of the water sluicing down his body until he picked up his wand and dried himself, the floor, and their shoes.

“Kenneth won’t do anything to him,” she replied.

Hopping up to sit on the edge of the tub, she attempted to avoid drenching the floor again. Taking the hand he offered, she stood and kissed him, but he was distracted now, listening to the voices outside.

“He might not,” Raegan responded, “but they’ve got a crowd building.” He began to dress swiftly.

Picking up her wand, Arelia dried off with the handy charm he’d taught her and reached for her school clothes. When she was dressed, she touched his back where he stood with his ear to the door.

“I never thought I’d be eager for summer,” she muttered.

“Shh…” His fingers gripped his wand tighter. “That’s Richter. Damn it to hell, what are they getting into…”

He stopped their tamper-proof Lock Charm, threw the bolt, and yanked the door open to confront his housemates – but the damage was already done.

Tommy Brolin, hands fisted at his sides, faced off with Kenneth Shaw. Richter stood beside the Slytherin Seeker, an eager expression on his face. Other members of their team leered behind him. Ranked around Kenneth were the Ravenclaw players, every face hard and cold.

“Tomorrow night, Shaw – as soon as the ceremony is over,” Brolin announced.

“This is stupid,” Kenneth protested, but his own teammates shook their heads.

“Let’s show these mongoloids they aren’t the only ones who can play rough,” a Chaser announced.

Seamus Connor, the Ravenclaw Captain, chimed in, “If this little Death Eater’s runt hadn’t slammed into you, we’d have won the Cup. Time to prove that to him.”

“Hold it,” Raegan commanded, striding out of the bathroom to confront the crowd.

Several of them jumped. They’d been so intent on the challenge, they hadn’t seen them emerge. Looking from face to face as she followed him out, Arelia saw the anger, resentment, and all-out hatred that had become familiar of late, on almost every one of them.

“Keep out of it, Decker,” Tommy warned. “This is between Shaw and I.”

“We don’t have to prove anything to them,” Raegan replied. “Drop it before someone gets their head broken.”

“Stand aside, Decker,” Seamus said, moving forward, “or it might be your head.”

“You’d need your whole team to put me down, Connor,” he answered with a practiced sneer. “And you’d come up with less of them.”

Seamus paled but didn’t back down. Arelia startled when he addressed her. “What are you doing with this bastard? You’re Muggle-born. Don’t you know he’s just slumming?”

Outraged, she whipped her wand up with a growl in her throat, but Raegan caught her wrist.

“Don’t. He wants you to, so the fight can start right here. Maybe he needs to skip his Arithmancy N.E.W.T. tomorrow? You never know.” Moving to stand slightly in front of her, he faced them with a glowering expression. “If you’re all set on this idiotic notion of a Quidditch duel to settle things, it’s going to be a fair match – and just to keep all heads intact, it’s going to have a teacher for a referee. Madam Hooch –”

“You’re mad,” Connor interrupted. “Hooch would just turn us in. Professor Falchion will referee.”

“Then I want Professor Snape out there for us,” Tommy responded, his tone quiet and confident.

Connor’s smirk stretched wide. “It’s settled then – we’ll meet on the Quidditch pitch directly after the Leaving Feast. That way, any Slytherins worried about their grades won’t be jeopardizing their chances.”

Raegan cut off the angry muttered retorts around them. “This is between us, our teams, and our chosen referees – not the whole damn school. Keep that in mind, all of you. If we end up with an audience, the duel will be stopped, likely by the headmaster himself.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Connor responded with a sneer. “We can actually keep a secret.”

Raegan ignored him and addressed the crowd of players. “As we go into the final week of the term without exams or classes to distract us, I suggest we try to quell the larger feud in the halls. If the staff thinks things are calming down, they’ll be less suspicious.”

His appeal was met with grumbles on both sides but when Connor nodded and turned to leave, the students finally began to disperse.

In the ensuing silence, Arelia watched the others go – talking and bragging – in different directions. Raegan turned to her, his wand clutched tight in his hand. His free hand lifted to stroke her cheek.

“This could still get ugly,” she warned him. “What if Severus won’t help? He’s ordered all of you to drop this madness.”

“He’ll play, don’t worry about that.”

“Why?”

“For the same reason I went along with it – so they won’t do it behind our backs and get themselves killed. With that bitch involved, they might.” He reached out and held her gently. “Also ... because he never lets us down when we need him.” He kissed her hair and added in a whisper, “I have a bad feeling … that we’re going to.”

When he released her, she asked, “What do we do now?”

“We catch up with Tommy and have our own chat with Snape.” He took her hand and led her off toward the stairs.

“What Seamus Connor said – are you just slumming?”

“Completely,” he replied, smirking at her over his shoulder. “You disgust me.”

The sudden and unwelcome worry faded as she laughed. “Every chance I get,” she responded.

“So have I topped Snape yet?”

“No, but keep trying.”

“Lachlan’s right – you should have been in Slytherin.”

Professor Snape had just dismissed Brolin from his office when they arrived. Raegan tried to speak to him but the Seeker brushed him off, disappearing into the Slytherin common room.

Arelia was mildly surprised to see Kistler in the office, too – standing beside the Potions master’s chair with the expression of a suspicious sentinel.

Listening without comment as Raegan and his Head of House discussed the duel, she occasionally glanced at the redhead. Her proud poise, protective attitude – and the fact that Arelia knew Carine and Kenneth were lovers again – combined into a suspicion of her own.

“As you surmised, Mr. Marcus, we appear to have little choice in the matter,” Severus agreed. “Better that they have this foolish duel supervised, than not. The majority of Falchion’s prize targets are on our team, after all, and we mustn’t tempt her too much.”

That comment got Arelia’s attention. “You are her most prized target, sir. What if this game is just a set-up to get you out there?”

Kistler’s neutral wary expression morphed into a stiff frown and she nearly laid her hand on the Potions master’s shoulder.

_Interesting. Have you gathered a new rose, Severus?_ Looking back at him, Arelia continued, “Falchion may not bother with the players if she can take a shot at you.”

“An astute observation, Miss Galen, and most likely correct. Yet I cannot leave the wolf in the fold unchallenged.”

“Why deal with her at all? Why not report the duel to the headmaster? He could stop it.” She wasn’t surprised when Severus and Raegan glared at her, but Kistler seemed to be seriously considering what she’d said.

“We cannot guarantee they wouldn’t try it on their own, even after returning home. Most of the players live in Great Britain, and possess the ability to Apparate. The rest would only have to take their brooms to an agreed upon meeting place. Beyond that consideration, there is this: our house is weary of these injuries to our honor. If we do not take a stand, such insults will never cease.”

Arelia frowned. “Injuries to your honor? This woman is capable of anything – you said so yourself, sir. I think it’s foolish to let his duel take place at Hogwarts, while all involved are spoiling for a brawl. So they might meet on a moor next month – I’m willing to bet once they all go home the fever will fade; they’ll have other things to think about.”

“Arelia, you don’t understand,” Raegan said, his fists clenched. “I don’t want this duel to happen, either, but the Professor has a point – they won’t stop. If Tommy is hot for it, the rest are burning up, I promise you that. I’m willing to try defusing the individuals a little, if I can, but if I can’t – we may as well see this thing through.”

“Under proper supervision, perhaps we could merely allow them to get it out of their system, avoiding further harm, as well as putting to rest this accusation of cheating,” the Potions master added.

Kistler spoke, the fear in her voice all but confirming Arelia’s suspicions. “Sir, if there is a real threat, perhaps you could remain –”

“There has been ‘a real threat’ since the war with the Dark Lord ended, Miss Kistler. I will not skulk in the dungeons while my students put themselves at risk. I assure you all that I am equal to the threat of this rabid Auror. She should certainly remember that I am capable of defending myself … as should others.”

Bowing her head, Kistler fell silent, wisely refraining from incurring the professor’s wrath further.

Raegan stopped pacing and moved to the door. “I should go talk to Tommy, and knock some sense into him, whether he wants to listen or not. I know Ferris is whispering venom in his ears as it is.”

“Richter wants this duel so he can have another shot at Shaw,” Snape said, his black gaze pinning Arelia. “Though I would endeavor to try, perhaps, Miss Galen, you should take the opportunity at the evening meal to warn Miss Lachlan’s fiancé that I may not be able to help him in the duel if things get … rough.”

“I think he remembers having his arm broken clearly enough,” she responded. “So I doubt if he’ll need the warning.” Answering his glare, she added stiffly, “I’ll speak with him.”

~ ~ ~

She could find Kenneth soon enough. There was someone else she wanted to corner first – or possibly threaten. Her expression grim, she headed up to the third floor.

Arelia stalked through the empty classroom chamber and up the short spiral stairs, stopping outside the door to the D.A.D.A. professor’s office, her hand poised to knock. Inside, she heard the Auror speaking, and as her voice rose and the words became clearer, Arelia froze.

Unfolding like a poisonous flower, a plan was being laid out inside the office. As Falchion addressed her audience, giving out individual instruction, the names she spoke rang in the frightened prefect’s ears.

_Oh, God... _As silently as she could, she began to turn away from the door. _To hell with Slytherin honor; I have to go to the headmaster. He’s the only one who can stop –_

Something struck her cheek, a sharp and burning pain. Touching it, her fingers came away bloody. She reached for her wand fast but before she could draw it out, she was hit again, this time by a fist.

The blow tumbled her down the short curling staircase. Landing in an aching heap, she looked back up in time to see one of Ravenclaw’s Beaters, a heavy seventh year and skilled duelist named Winston Greer, removing the hood of an ... invisibility cloak. Horrified, she realized he had been standing guard, right in front of her.

Leering, he started down the stairs, only his head and the hand that held his wand visible. “Look,” he whispered, “a traitor. Just the thing the Prof told me to watch for. Too bad, Arelia. I have my orders.”

She yanked her wand out but he was already on the attack again, throwing a hex that cleaved her tongue to the roof of her mouth and sealed her lips shut over it. The next word echoed in her mind as her body began to writhe, canceling her ability to cast nonverbally.

“Crucio,” he hissed, the pleasure of giving pain glowing in his eyes.

Time stretched – and then it shattered. Unable to scream, she threw every ounce of will into keeping her wand clamped in fingers wracked by agony. She couldn’t see Greer but she dimly heard the door behind him open, and then the pain abruptly stopped.

“Don’t play with her, you fool,” an exasperated voice called out. It was ... Falchion. “Take her out of here, and make it look like an accident – a Slytherin accident.”

“Does it have to be quick? Wouldn’t mind seeing what can keep a purist ape like Decker dipping from the same muddy honey pot for months.”

“I don’t give a damn what you do, as long as a Slytherin gets the blame.”

Arelia rolled and fought to rise. Without looking back at them, she stumbled into a run, almost tripping on her robes.

“Get her – now!”

The classroom was a blur as she ran for her life. Greer cast a Locking Charm on the door, but Arelia hit it with a nonverbal Blasting Curse, blowing it into pieces across the hall. Sprinting through the debris before it fell, she swerved and headed for the nearest staircase.

Frantically looking around for help, she didn’t see anyone. Most of the students and teachers would be preoccupied with end of school business, sitting down to dinner, or preparing for the last of the exams scheduled tomorrow.

Behind her, Greer was coming fast, and she couldn’t count on him not using the Cruciatus Curse out here. Just as she stepped onto the staircase and headed down to the second floor, Greer leaped onto it after her. Yet the stairs would bring her closer to help; all she had to do was fend off the Beater and keep running.

Halfway down, the staircase began to move, swinging out over empty space to take her to another landing. Arelia cursed, but it didn’t matter where it ended up, she could still get away.

Then the stairs ground to a shuddering halt, hanging in space. Whirling, she saw Greer’s wand, and only a sliver of his face, approaching slowly.

“Can’t let you do that, Arelia,” he whispered. “Falchion taught us all a few new tricks, and I can throw them better than most.”

_He did it nonverbally! I have no idea what he cast!_

She wanted to release herself from the hex that had sealed her mouth or make the stairs move again, but she didn’t dare take her wand off of him. Backing away instinctively, she tossed random damage at him, only to watch him deflect the spells with ease.

_Raegan … Severus … someone help me!_

She couldn’t cry out when her foot nearly stepped off the edge of the staircase, and when his wand flicked again, and the silent spell he cast tumbled her out into open air, she couldn’t scream as she fell.

*******************************  
**Carine**  
*******************************

Tears blurred the scene as Kenneth held her. The headmaster had moved to the entrance to the hospital wing and ordered Hagrid to keep the volatile crowd out. Carine watched as he returned to Madam Pomfrey, Headboy Silas, and Professor Flitwick. They were gathered around the bed where Arelia lay, pale and silent.

Snape paced, his expression dark enough to kill. Stopping abruptly at his other prefect’s side, his pale hands gripped his shoulders.

Decker Marcus was leaning forward, his fists on the footboard of an empty bed, his hair covering his face. Clutched in his white-knuckled fingers was a green and silver striped school tie.

It had been found pulled tight around Arelia’s neck. Her clothes had been torn, and a shocking number of bones were broken. Her black robes had been tossed over her body. The paintings had spread the news fast but she still had lain there, alone and in pain, far too long before anyone found her.

Staring at the tie, Carine began to cry again. “Is she dead?” she asked in a shaky whisper.

Kenneth shook his head. “She’s not; she won’t die. They’ll make sure she recovers, you’ll see. Broken bones are easy.”

“Why doesn’t she wake up?”

“They said she’s in a coma.”

When Madam Pomfrey spoke quietly to Headmaster Dumbledore, the room fell quiet. “We have to move her, Albus. She should be in St. Mungo’s.”

Carine didn’t hear the headmaster’s reply, though she knew the answer would be yes. The two of them moved off a short distance to discuss the situation. Her stare moved to her Head of House. Professor Snape had whispered something to Marcus and then approached them.

“I want to see you in my chambers, Miss Lachlan. We’ll wait for Mr. Marcus, and then I want you both to follow me. Stop for nothing. Mr. Shaw, you will remain here or Professor Flitwick may escort you to his office. I would avoid Ravenclaw Tower for the moment – I’m sure you agree, Filius?”

The Charms teacher nodded, sorrow deepening the lines of his face. “Minerva and Pomona are working to quell the crowds and question the paintings. Mr. Silas, please go assist your Head of House with that. Mr. Shaw and I will help transport Miss Galen and then go to my office.”

Kenneth frowned, but Carine nodded. “Yes, sir.” She released her fiancé. “It’ll be all right,” she whispered to him. “Professor Snape and Decker won’t let anyone hurt me. We can’t be seen together out there.”

When Snape moved to the doors, she followed, and then they both turned to watch Marcus.

Professor Flitwick gave the Slytherin prefect a sad smile and allowed him to take his place at Arelia’s side, pulling Silas back with him.

With the tie wadded up in one fist, his trembling fingers stroked her hair from her face. “I’ll see you soon, Miss Capulet,” he murmured, and turned away, his face streaked with tears.

_He really loves her. _Carine felt the remains of animosity that had still survived in her for the Hound of Hell fade away in that instant.

She embraced him when he joined them at the door, and held his hand tightly as they moved through the crowd outside in the Potions master’s wake. It was easier to get through than she had expected, too: the students parted before Snape’s wrath immediately, nearly trampling each other in fear of the man.

Safe inside his chambers soon after, Carine sat next to Serena, delighted to find her there waiting for them. The girls held hands, worried for Arelia and frightened for all of their friends.

When the door was locked, the Potions master faced them. Marcus paced behind the couch, ignoring the girls, and the chilling stare of the professor.

“What can be done for Miss Galen will be done. I require your attention now, Mr. Marcus.”

“Arelia fell to the second floor! God only knows what happened after she hit.”

“She knows,” Snape corrected, “and when she wakes and can communicate, we will know. Until then –”

“The Ravenclaw that did it knows,” Marcus interjected, his tone savage. Brandishing the tie in his fist, he added, “This was planted so Slytherin would get the blame, and you know it!”

“Mr. Marcus –”

“Nothing but a ruse to start a war … and she was hurt for that, she was –”

“Raegan!” The Potions master’s thundering whip crack of his prefect’s given name made them all jump – and brought Marcus up short. “We have too much to do to lose our senses over what has happened. I know you want revenge, and justly so, but we must first discover what threat she represented to our enemies – it may be vital to the survival of many.”

“What she represented? They probably just did it to get me on the warpath with the rest of them!”

“An astonishingly self-absorbed view, even for a Slytherin prefect. You’ve outgrown that this past year. Use your brain, please.”

Marcus looked shocked before hate for their enemies gave way to sense. Drawing his chin up with bruised pride, he stood, stiff at attention, as Snape addressed them all again.

“Miss Galen is not an adversary easily beaten. Prudence would be to avoid her, to use some other victim to incite the opposition, a simpler target. For them to have chosen her, there would have to be a reason. The best reason would be to silence her – if she came to possess delicate information, for instance.”

“More bits of intelligence only she and her attacker might know,” Marcus replied. He crossed his arms over his chest in an unconscious imitation of their glowering teacher. “The paintings didn’t see who did it, or we’d already have the bastard.”

“Yes, though Falchion undoubtedly would also be aware of the truth, and probably others as well. It is getting quite late; the wiser time to begin will be tomorrow – most of the Quidditch players will have finished with exams early.”

“Begin what?” Carine asked.

“Our mission to catch one of the Auror’s ring leaders. Ideas?”

“But ... we don’t know who they are,” Serena whispered.

“Miss Lachlann, would Mr. Shaw have any thoughts on the matter?”

“I doubt it. He already told me that there’s hardly a member of his team who will talk to him much, besides Keeper and Captain, Seamus Connor. The rest of them are always closeted with that bitch…” Her voice trailed away, her mouth open in shock.

Snape’s smile was cruel. “It seems we do know who they are, after all.”

Pinning each of them in turn with his cold gaze, he continued in that soft, silken voice.

“Tomorrow, you each have a job to do. You are to go to St. Mungo’s under the pretense of visiting your friend. Miss Kistler, as you are not a seventh year, I will provide you with a written note to be gone from school grounds, on private errands for your Head of House. The rest of you will not be missed for a few hours at least, as your N.E.W.T.s are already completed.”

“We’ll be there to guard her ... yes,” Marcus responded with that old wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Do this daily next week – partly to guard her, also to be present when she wakes, and to watch for potential adversaries. Miss Galen will be under the best of care at the hospital and may wake soon. If we can discover why she was attacked, we may learn much.”

Greatly daring, Marcus asked, “What will you be doing, Professor?”

Ignoring the prefect’s sneer, he answered, “Between normal duties, I will attempt to reel in one or more of these conspirator players, on a detention pretext, and question them myself; with the invaluable assistance of Veritaserum.”

“So we have a plan,” Marcus replied, obviously barely appeased. “May I be dismissed, sir? I could help quell the additional upset this has caused,” he added, mashing the tie harder in his hand.

“I will escort you to the common room, Mr. Marcus. None of you should be in the halls alone tonight.” Turning to the girls, he glared at them. “Stay here. We have more safety measures to discuss.”

“Yes, sir,” Carine muttered. When they left through the main chamber door, she sighed. “This is such a mess. What are we going to do?”

“Whatever he tells us to, I expect,” Serena answered, crestfallen. “I’ve never seen him so angry – so lethal.”

Carine sighed again. “Doesn’t love conquer all? You must’ve seen him relaxed and happy by now, too. Or at least worn out and less irritable?”

“He doesn’t love me.” Her flat tone was laced with hurt. “I can soothe his demons some, a little – but that’s all.”

“I was kidding about love conquering. I told you declaring your love wouldn’t get you anywhere. Do you want to end like Rowan?”

“She was a fool and never understood him.”

“And you do?”

“Yes. More than I dare to say, but ... you shouldn’t ever say anything aloud in the dungeons that you don’t want him to know.”

“Why – are his spies everywhere? It’s the bats, isn’t it?” She tried to smile to cheer her friend up.

“It’s the Bloody Baron.”

Carine fell silent with a gulp. She wasn’t sure what worried her more, the thought of the gruesome Slytherin ghost or the cold emerald eyes that stared back at her, full of hidden secrets. She wanted to apologize for chastising her, unsure why she had – but the words wouldn’t come.

“It’s okay,” Serena answered her stricken expression. “You’re upset about Arelia – I understand.”

Any further discussion was interrupted by the return of Snape. He entered the room talking, relocking his door before facing them.

“Mr. Marcus assumed correctly – no painting or ghost could say what happened to the satisfaction of any member of the teaching staff. The few of them who saw anything have reported merely witnessing Miss Galen retreating down the stairs and falling. No assailant was noted at all. This tells me that there is a real threat of danger to both of you, as well. From now until you go home, if you are outside of these chambers or the Slytherin dungeon rooms, I expect the two of you to be in each other’s company. Further precautions will be set to shadow you, for your protection, while at the school. At St. Mungo’s, Mr. Marcus and his thirst for vengeance should be sufficient extra guard. Is this understood?”

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison, neither daring to contradict the fierce look on his face.

“I have informed Mr. Marcus of this as well.”

“Sir?” Serena asked. “What about what Arelia said before? That you may be the main target? Now that they’ve gone so far to hurt her … maybe we should report the duel to the headmaster?”

“No, we should not. If Falchion does attempt to harm me, I must be able to claim her death was the result of clear self-defense. If others are apprised of the situation, and interfere, she will simply find another, possibly more effective, means to attack me. Let us keep our enemies where we can see them – with room to shoot back.”

“Yes, sir,” Serena answered, her head bowed.

“It’s late – I want the two of you to get some rest in preparation for tomorrow. Miss Kistler, go with Miss Lachlan. I will open the Portcullis Charm for you both.”

Carine watched closely as he swung a narrow tapestry out on its rod and worked the charm that had invaded her room since the start of the year. Serena stood beside her in the bedroom, but her gaze was on the Potions master’s bed.

“Goodnight, Severus,” Carine murmured. He nodded to her curtly as she headed for the cold opening he had made. When Serena spoke, she paused and glanced back.

“Maybe I should stay.”

“I have given you my instructions, Miss Kistler.”

The redhead stepped closer to him, placing her palm over the black buttons on his chest. “Severus … you need me.”

“I will see you in the evenings if I am able, and of course when your mission is completed. Do not test my patience.”

Carine winced as she watched the younger girl try to embrace him. Turning away from his angry expression, she prepared to enter the portal.

“Let me stay … please?” Serena begged behind her.

“Save your witchery for when I request its use, Miss Kistler. For when I want it – not when you do. Go. And – do – not – presume – again.”

Carine didn’t hear if her friend was foolish enough to reply – she had walked through the portal to escape his wrath herself. Relieved to see that Serena had followed after her, she held the crying girl as the portal faded behind them.

When her sobs quieted, Carine led her to sit on her bed and poured firewhiskey for them both. House-elves had started the fire, and the chamber of the Slytherin Tutor was warm, dimly lit by only a few of the candles.

“Don’t bother going up to your dorm,” she whispered, brushing the soft red hair from her face and wiping the tears away. “Just stay here with me. Here,” she added, putting the whiskey glass in her trembling hands. “This helps when he’s cruel – at least it always did me.”

Taking a gulp of it without a wince, Serena sighed, a broken, hopeless sound. “How did you ever manage – all year?”

“I obeyed him. And,” she added, trying a gentle smile, “I didn’t fall in love.” Tossing back her own glass at once, she studied the fire through the cut crystal. “He doesn’t change – he’s like stone or steel. If you want to be with him, you’d better learn to become one of those things or he’ll grind you down before your tenure is up.” She took the empty glasses and returned them to the mantel. With her back to her friend, she spoke in a distant, resigned voice. “Or give it up … let someone else replace my less-than-stellar reign.”

“I can’t – I won’t.”

Carine turned, her expression kind, but sad. “I remember saying those words, but for vastly different reasons. If you really feel that strongly – hang in there. If anyone could melt stone, it’d be you.” She swooped to pick up Latimer on her way to the pillows. “Come on, let’s go to bed. He can watch us through that arch, you know. Since the lesson of the day is obedience, we should get to it.”

Serena lay beside her, staring at the arch, until all the lights went out – but Carine didn’t know if she ever closed her eyes. From the moment she did so herself and fell into an exhausted sleep, she was chased by a wholly new nightmare – a formless menace who forced Arelia to step back and break her body – over and over, with only her bones making a sound.

~ ~ ~

The Wizard hospital loomed over their heads as the trio of Slytherins Apparated just outside the main doors. Finding Arelia was relatively simple but gaining entrance to the room proved trickier.

“They’ll only let us in one at a time,” Serena reported. “The nurse has to stay and observe. Apparently it’s the headmaster’s orders, and they wouldn’t budge, even with my note from the professor.”

“Fine, we can work with that,” Marcus responded. “Is she awake?”

Carine watched her friends closely as Marcus, their unelected and uncontested leader, grilled Serena. _Call him Raegan. That’s what Arelia prefers, and now that I don’t hate him, I can agree that it suits him better than Decker or The Hound of Hell._

“No, she hasn’t come out of the coma yet. They took a hex off her, though – that was why no one heard her scream or call for help, her mouth was sealed.”

His frown was lethal. “Carine, you go in first. Then call for me.”

“I will Raegan,” she whispered, moving off into the room before he could ask her about calling him that. Behind her, she heard the other two talking quietly.

“Should I go next, so you can … look more composed?”

“No. You need to be last, the same routine each day. This is what I want you to do…”

The voices faded as she entered the room. Stalling before looking at Arelia’s face, she smiled absently at the nurse. She was sitting in the far corner doing _The Daily Prophet _crossword.

_They’re plotting without me out there. Is it something Severus wants or just Raegan? Stop. Focus. Be here for Arelia._

She started to cry softly again when she saw her still, pale face. Her friend’s rich brunette hair was brushed over the white pillow, some of the stray strands giving it the appearance of smooth marble. Her body was hidden up to the neck in thick coverings. Various wizarding monitoring equipment hummed comfortingly around her, nothing like the frightening electronic machines she had learned about in Muggle Studies.

The nurse made her feel even more nervous and she swallowed hard, brushing tears away. Not trusting her voice to talk, she leaned closer and gently stroked Arelia’s hair on the pillow.

~ ~ ~

Every day, the trio of Slytherins came to visit their friend. They had no classes or exams that week and their Head of House had excused them from all other duties until the evenings when St. Mungo’s visiting ours were over. Professor Flitwick would meet them when they left and Marcus had heard that other teachers were taking turns to watch over Arelia, too. Someone with a ready wand was always close by.

“Don’t let the nurse fool you, either,” Serena muttered to her as they headed down the hallway. “She was a Gryffindor prefect in school, and one of the most skilled witches of her year.”

Carine just nodded and gave the woman the same polite smile she always did when she went into the hospital room first. It was the last day of the week – the last day of the school year. She had barely slept or eaten. Later in the evening, the Leaving Feast would start. Then the combatants would slip away to the Quidditch pitch.

“I’m here,” Carine whispered to Arelia. “I wish you’d wake up; I miss you, and everything’s insane at school.” At a loss, she added miserably in a mumble, “Kenneth says hi.”

Silent and unresponsive as always through her visit, her friend lay there like a pretty doll. After twenty minutes, she patted the lump in the covers that might have been Arelia’s hand, and stepped back to the door.

“Raegan?”

Trading places with him, she went to go sit beside Serena on a row of chairs in the hall. Then Serena got up and stood in the doorway. Carine saw her smile vaguely, probably at the nurse, and continue to watch Raegan. The nurse seemed content to allow it as long as she didn’t enter.

Ten minutes later, Raegan joined Serena at the door. They didn’t speak, but an intense look was passed between them. Nodding, Serena went in as the prefect exited. He seemed to be trying to repress excitement as he sat down again next to her.

“What was that about, and what’s got you so fidgety?”

He hushed her, but then whispered in her ear, “Arelia’s awake – well, barely. Just now.”

“Oh that’s great!”

“Shh!”

“Stop shushing me. We have to tell the doctors.”

“No. Not yet.”

“What? Why?”

Pulling her even closer, he explained in a hushed tone, “Once they know, they’ll toss us out and the place will be swarming. I don’t think she’s up to talking yet, but she has to know who attacked her … and we need to find out.”

“But if she – wait, how are you going to find out?”

“Legilimency.”

Carine stared at him, shocked and a little appalled. “Oh my God, what?”

“Hush!”

“What if she needs the doctors? Right the hell now?”

“Don’t worry – it won’t take a minute, hopefully, and then Serena’s going to report to the nurse that she’s awake. Now keep quiet.”

Less than five minutes later, there was a flurry of activity in and around Arelia’s room. As predicted, Serena was shooed out as doctors were called in, and the kind but no-nonsense nurse told the students it was time to return to school. They asked questions that were largely ignored, and finally filed out obediently.

“So she was really awake, and okay?” Carine asked as they navigated the busy halls.

“Awake, yes. She seemed okay but very groggy.” Serena held her hand tightly when Carine reached for her, still holding her wand in her other hand. “Don’t worry; I think she’ll be fine. This hospital doesn’t muck about – she’ll be on her feet again in no time.”

Raegan frowned. “Just in time for it all to be over with tonight, probably. What did you find out?”

“Hush,” Serena whispered. “Let’s get outside first.”

Carine followed them both to a grouping of stone benches surrounded by summer blooms. It was just to the left of the main entrance, and they could watch as people came and went, with the comfort of the massive stone hospital wall at their backs. Letting the redhead sit between them, Carine watched impatiently as the younger girl composed herself.

Serena took a deep breath. “I saw bits and pieces of the attack, but nothing of what she learned that got her attacked, only the reason why. She was going to speak with Falchion, but one of the stooge ghouls was on guard at the office door, wearing an invisibility cloak.”

“That’s why no ghosts or paintings saw who did it,” Carine muttered. “How did they get one of those? I didn’t know any existed anymore.”

Raegan’s hand fell on Serena’s shoulder, the fingers clutching hard. “Was she – how was she hurt?”

His grip was probably hurting her, but she looked at him without wincing. “Not as bad as we feared. I think he meant it to be, but he must have realized some of the paintings saw her fall, so his plans were probably interrupted. She feared worse when he tore her shirt, but then he covered her up and left. I think he cast a spell to hide her for a limited amount of time, too, I guess to give him escape time after planting the Slytherin tie on her.”

“Which explains why it took so long to find her,” Carine said, feeling sick over it.

“Serena,” Raegan whispered, and this time she did wince as his fingers tightened. “Who was it?”

She looked up as a harsh voice called out to them, instinctively aiming her wand in that direction. Winston Greer, holding a bouquet of flowers, had Apparated only a few feet from them. The Beater had called out Raegan’s nickname, his tone a sneering gloat.

Serena startled when she saw him, but then a fierce look fell over her face. “Who was it?” she repeated. “It was him – and he’s here to finish what he started. I can see it in his mind.”

When Raegan rose, a promise of violence glowed in his eyes. He drew his wand in a flash, the words of an ugly curse hissing through his lips.

A loud crack sounded between him and his target, and the curse was blocked by a powerful Shield Spell. The prefect roared his outrage, only to find himself staring up at the baleful glare of the Potions master.

Snape didn’t say a word to any of them. Greer started to thank the professor for the block but never finished the sentence as the black wand flicked again, snapping the Beater into a full body-bind. Before they could react, he seized the boy and Disapparated with him.

The only sound that followed the crack of their disappearance was a soft crunch as Raegan’s shoe crushed the fallen flowers.

*******************************  
**Severus**  
*******************************

“Enter,” he barked to them.

The door to room thirteen of the Hogshead opened and Kistler, Marcus, and Lachlan slipped inside. They were winded, and had probably spent the better part of the afternoon searching for him.

“Sir –” Marcus began, but Severus cut him off.

“Be silent.” He glared around at them all. The girls stared in shock at Greer, who was laid out on the floor of the room at his feet. Marcus didn’t appear shocked – he still looked murderous. “I regret to inform you, Mr. Marcus, that your vengeance has been stolen from you. Mr. Greer is dead.”

“Professor!” Lachlan exclaimed, horrified.

“I did not kill him, be assured of that. He was in the midst of a forced confession when a pre-cast hex threw him into convulsions.” Glancing down at the corpse, he grunted in disgust. “Presumably, Falchion bound them to secrecy with – strident methods.” He slid the remaining Veritaserum back into a pocket of his cassock and then pinned each student with a stern stare. “He told others he was going to the hospital. I will return him there and create a safer way for him to be discovered.”

“Did you learn anything, sir?”

Severus smiled. The boy’s control was admirable in the face of such rage. “Yes, a little, and we will discuss that shortly. Go directly to my chambers; I will meet you there in two hours. If I am delayed, stay there. Miss Lachlan?”

“Sir?”

“Mr. Shaw needs to join us. Ask a house elf to deliver the message.”

“Kenneth can’t go down to the dungeons alone,” she whispered.

“I will have him guarded as well.”

“Yes, sir – but … how will we get in?”

Marcus and Kistler exchanged surprised looks but said nothing.

Severus gave her a wry smile. “You are surrounded by people who know my password, Miss Lachlan, and you shall remain safely with them. Do not fetch Shaw yourselves.” He pinned each of them with a threatening glare. “Now go, with great caution, and speak to no one until I join you there.”

The girls nodded and shuffled out quickly, with only Marcus giving a last scathing glance at his missed prey.

Staring down at the body as the door closed behind them, Severus sighed. “You’re a fortunate fool,” he told the slightly bluing corpse. “I expect my prefect wouldn’t have given you such a quiet end.” The hex that killed him had not been painless, however, merely silent. With a slight smile, Severus made a mental note to describe it later. Perhaps it would soothe the boy’s thwarted bloodlust.

~ ~ ~

Three young Slytherins and one Ravenclaw watched as he entered and locked his chamber door. In the corner of the sitting room, the gruesome specter of the Bloody Baron nodded to him. As he returned the gesture, the ghost faded through the wall, his escort duties done for now.

Lachlan and Shaw were perched on the edge of the couch. His arm was around her waist to comfort her, though his eyes still held suspicion and dislike for his host.

Marcus had been pacing again, but stopped and faced him instantly. Kistler met his eyes for a moment, and then bowed her head. Like Lachlan, she seemed afraid – but there was steel there, too, matching the look Marcus wore.

“Miss Galen suggested that I was Falchion’s target. This was supported, however unwillingly, by the deceased Greer.” They were silent, attentive. “She means to attack me during the duel. However, as I have said, if we merely report and stop it, she has a contingency plan already in motion. I am not eager to discover the hard way if it would work.”

Shaw crossed his arms and watched him with a glare, ignoring the others. “So she may try to attack you somewhere else. School will be out and over tomorrow. Then you can take your own shot at that imbalanced woman – without risking others. Reporting it all, and her, is still the smarter choice. Sir.”

“It might have been – but not anymore. Greer was terrified of a string of hexes she bound them with. Her contingency plan is one of them, activated by a word, a word he didn’t know. She told them that if she was arrested or the duel was stopped, this word would trigger the same hex set up to punish those who snitched. The last piece of information he offered before his speech became – impeded – was the final hex. If she is killed and I am not, they will have to try to destroy me themselves … or suffer their own deaths – imminently.”

“Severus –”

He turned a glare on Kistler and she fell silent. Meeting Shaw’s stony gaze, he gave the boy a cold smile. “Before I could discover much more, Greer’s hex had activated. So you see, Mr. Shaw, unless you wish to end the lives of your team in the same unfortunate manner, our course has been set for us.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t decide it was an acceptable loss. It would certainly save you and yours from harm.”

Lachlan gasped and attempted to hush him, but Shaw continued to stare defiantly back at him.

“Contrary to rumor, I do not consider the deaths of students en masse acceptable – even Ravenclaws. I suspect Falchion assumed one of her goons would snitch on her plans or that I would corner one. It is terribly convenient for her that I should discover the stakes and be led to decide to continue the duel. Even so, it appears to be the safest course. If she is alive, but incapacitated and unable to use her trigger word, verbally or nonverbally, the Ravenclaw team will be saved from their own radical stupidity.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t worry about that so much,” Marcus muttered. As all eyes turned on him, he glared at them. “They sat in her office and plotted this – plotted hurting Arelia, too. For what?”

“A blind crusade to rid the world of practitioners of the Dark Arts,” Lachlan whispered.

“Yeah,” Marcus agreed, with a sneer. Letting out a bitter laugh, he added, “Ironic that she’s bound them all with them.”

“What?” Shaw exclaimed.

Beside him, Lachlan appeared equally stunned – yet Kistler looked up at them with haunted eyes. Unsurprisingly, she had sensed it too.

Severus spoke softly, “The hexes Falchion used to bind her servant students to her – they are Dark Arts magic. It seems she believes that to vanquish evil, one must adopt some of its tools and methods.”

Meeting his gaze, Kistler whispered to them all, “Greer’s mind reeked of those hexes, and he was … proud … of having been successful in using some of them against Arelia, too.” She turned her head to give Lachlan an apologetic look. “I told Raegan; I’m sorry, but I didn’t think it would do any good to tell you. We’re … harder in a lot of ways. I didn’t want to put that ugliness in your head with everything else going on.”

Lachlan gave up her brief offense quickly, nodded once, and bowed her head.

“How could she get them to agree?” Shaw lowered his head into his hands, and it was Lachlan’s turn to comfort him.

Severus turned away from them all to stare into the fire that burned brightly without heat. “Who can say the promises she lured them with? Lies buried in rewards, secrets hidden in half-truths? Whatever it was, they found the terms acceptable, and we must deal with the consequences.”

Around him, they were silent, lost in their own hatred, fear, or horror. Moving to the door, he unlocked and opened it.

“The Leaving Feast is nearly upon us. The Bloody Baron will guard Miss Kistler tonight until after the feast, when I shall expect the rest of you to rejoin her. Mr. Marcus, please escort Miss Lachlan to our common room to ready the younger students.” He started to protest, but Severus interrupted him. “Others will expect you both to be attending to your prefect duties. You will do what is expected.” To Shaw he added, “Your misguided team needs you for the duel, so I do not believe you are in danger – from them. Yet I advise caution. The Grey Lady will meet you at the top of the dungeon stairs.”

“Yes, sir,” he muttered, with less heat than usual as he followed the prefects out.

“Am I dismissed, sir?”

Severus closed the door, pressing his fingers and forehead against it. Serena waited in silence behind him. The fear and need, as strong as his, had been clear in her voice. He half expected her to approach, to embrace him – but his last lesson had been too well learned.

He faced her, took a breath, and opened his arms. Immediately, she came to him, and he held her tightly, burying his face in her auburn hair.

Her voice was a broken whisper when she spoke. “I still can’t understand why they would join her in hating us for alleged Death Eater crimes and then submit to Dark Arts binding magic to fight their ‘enemies’. It makes no sense … unless she lied to them, and did it without their knowledge.”

“Where there is hate, the answer can be frighteningly simple. Such a rich soil … often produces irrational, poisonous fruit. One so mired in it will drink and die – sooner than give it up.”

“The voice of experience.”

It wasn’t a question and he didn’t answer. Releasing her, he walked to the doorway of his bedroom. Without turning, he lifted his hand behind him. The fingers were trembling when she clasped them with her own. Leading her to his bed, he hoped to still them – but time was short.

She put aside her fear and questions and worked on claiming him quickly, using her wand on the buttons that impeded her, and leaving the rest. Straddling his hips, she lifted her robes and skirt and gave him what waited, wet and hot, to receive him.

Her hands pressed into the thick cloth of his cassock as she moved over him. Panting in time with their thrusts, she smiled wistfully. “I wish I could have you … without constraints, Severus – clothes, time, fears…”

Closing his eyes to avoid the haunting and volatile mix of pain and heat in hers, he forced himself to answer. “We will fight and conquer, Serena – and when it is finished, we will have the future.”

“Yes, and next year, I’ll ask the same old question.”

“Perhaps by the time you graduate, I’ll have an answer.”

Ecstasy was a sublime distraction – and with her, akin to healing. He clung to her hungrily as they stunted their fears together. When it was over and ecstasy faded, he looked up into her eyes and finally saw her, instead of the shadow of another.

“How you look at me,” she mused. “Maybe I should ask it again now?”

Grasping her hand, he lifted it, kissing the knuckles gently. “Patience,” he whispered.

“My grandmother always told me, ‘Don’t wait for the sunset to see the beauty in the world. Breathe it in as the sun crosses the sky – for night comes with swift stealth.’”

Severus glanced at the Herrick tapestry before meeting her warm gaze again. “Tell me she wasn’t a seer.”

“No. She was a gardener, gathering roses – just like you.” Smiling, she leaned down to kiss him deeply before rising.

They both knew they had only a short time to spare, and a charm or two helped. After they straightened their clothing, Serena sought one more embrace and he gave it without hesitation. He gazed at the old tapestry of the Slytherin crest over his bed, as she was left to stare at the tapestry of the poem that in many ways hid the path to their future. It only bore the first stanza picked out in fading threads.

The silence was broken by her sweet voice, reciting words she had memorized. It was the final stanza of the same poem.

“Then be not coy, but use your time, and while ye may, go marry; for having lost but once your prime, you may forever tarry.” Without another word, she released him and turned away to go.

Severus followed to watch the light from the fireplace play in her dark red hair that swayed gently as her graceful steps brought her to his chamber door. She paused for only a breath, and then she was gone.

He stared at the shadows she had walked through to leave his side until the thought of what was to come made him shiver. The choking fear slid back inside his bones like a thief, its icy fingers plucking at his soul.

~ ~ ~

Many in the Great Hall were distracted during the Leaving Feast. Severus kept glancing over at the Slytherin table, seeking out Serena, who smiled whenever she met his gaze, as if trying to impart warmth and comfort from across the room. She and the others he had confided with about the duel appeared to be eating as little as he had.

Madam Hooch had traded her usual chair beside him with the Charms professor, at the headmaster’s request. Professor Flitwick, his face grieved and haggard, barely touched any food or wine throughout the feast. They had attempted to strike up a few normal topics of conversion, but each try had died as neither of them found more than a few words to say.

For a strange moment, time eclipsed and he recalled Professor Flitwick smiling and laughing – on his graduation night. The trials of his feud with a handful of enemies then paled when compared to what awaited him now.

Then the message was passed from one professor to the next: after the awards were announced, the headmaster wished to speak to them all in the Trophy Room. The wide black door that led to the stairs to reach it was just a few feet to the right, behind him.

_Has Greer’s body been examined, the hexes identified – or the duel plot discovered? Likely not. Dumbledore must merely wish to discuss controlling the feud as the students prepare to leave for home tomorrow._

Headmaster Dumbledore stood to announce the points awarded to each house. As the crowd quieted, he began instead with a fervent plea for peace among them. An alarming amount of students in the hall appeared to be barely listening or were outright sneering as he spoke.

“Therefore,” Dumbledore continued, “I do beseech every one of you to set aside this feud before it can take root, burrowing under the very stones around us and weakening our bonds of friendship and camaraderie.”

Severus settled a stern glare over the Slytherin table but there were too many among even his own that stared back at their headmaster with anger or defiance.

“Yet it is not the force of the invading roots that cause damage; the strength of the root in and of itself is not capable this. They consume the water in the soil, as hate and fear can leech away goodwill and kindness, causing a weakening foundation to shift. As the roots grow, they can lift the stones until the weight of the structure above and the weakness below may even crack them. We must not bring this discord into our midst and allow it to break us.”

As his chin lowered onto folded hands propped on elbows, Severus stifled a sigh. _You spin a fine allegory indeed – yet if we are stones, who planted this tree of hate? It was not my House._ A glance at Professor Flitwick sobered his resentment. _It was none of us. This enemy came from without, not within._

Dumbledore was capable of hiding his emotions from the students, but Severus had noticed a slight anxious tremor when he set his hand over the pocket of his robes that held his wand. His fingertips slipped inside the embroidered fabric, probably to touch the wood.

_Trying to calm yourself or scan the crowd?_ Severus frowned, grateful the man’s gaze was sweeping over all of the long tables and not focusing solely on Slytherin students.

“Let us all strive to reject this enmity,” the headmaster concluded, “before the division it has spawned can spread and diminish our beloved school.” He bowed his head for a moment, and when he looked out at them all again, he tried to smile. “And now, the announcement of House points and the winner of the House Cup!”

Severus rose and applauded with his students when they stood to cheer for being named winners of the House Cup. Then his eyes strayed to the rest of the room, to the mutterings everywhere, and the baleful glances from the Ravenclaw table. He turned his face away from them with a cold haughty sneer, feigning disinterest in their animosity.

Overhead, the spelled ceiling revealed the black roiling clouds of a storm as the Slytherin banners broke out to decorate the hall. A few students gasped as a flash of lightning lit the night, followed by the cracking boom of thunder. More lit and flickering candles appeared, but the celebration for the end of the school year went on unchecked.

As the hiss of rain erupted, Severus sought out Marcus and Lachlan, who, like Serena, were both staring at him. The fear he felt was reflected in their eyes. His gaze swept back to the Ravenclaw table, seeking out the empty chair beside Shaw. Arelia Galen had not recovered enough yet to attend this evening, but he couldn’t regret it as he had before. She would be safe.

Abruptly, it was over and the students began to disperse. He waited at the Trophy Room door and held it open for the others, avoiding the headmaster’s gaze as he reminded them all of the emergency meeting he had called. They all moved down the wide stone staircase to the opening iron gates, muttering to each other in anxious whispers.

His eyes met Serena’s again as he allowed the door to close without following his peers. In a moment, he would abandon the teacher’s conference and walk to meet her, and then it would all finally begin, with the lives of six Ravenclaws, and possibly as many Slytherins, hanging in the balance.

_Will Falchion replace Greer with another fool bound by the Dark Arts to her mad desire? How much of their plan died with him – how much am I ignorant of as I lead them into this? Can we stop her before more lives are lost?_

Serena started toward him, worry lining her beautiful face. It was time, and if they hesitated and Dumbledore learned what was happening, six fools would die.

Taking a deep breath, he moved to meet her. Unable to touch her, he simply paced at her side – out of the castle, and into the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the whole poem that originally inspired this story:
> 
> Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,  
Old Time is still a-flying;  
And this same flower that smiles today  
Tomorrow will be dying.
> 
> The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,  
The higher he’s a-getting,  
The sooner will his race be run,  
And nearer he’s to setting.
> 
> That age is best which is the first,  
When youth and blood are warmer;  
But being spent, the worse, and worst  
Times still succeed the former.
> 
> Then be not coy, but use your time,  
And while ye may, go marry;  
For having lost but once your prime,  
You may forever tarry.
> 
> ~ To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time (Robert Herrick)
> 
> I first encountered the poem while watching the film Dead Poets Society. It’s a three-hankie movie, but highly recommended. Most of you probably know this, but for those who don’t, the Grey Lady is the House Ghost of Ravenclaw. She has a sad traumatic history with Slytherin House’s ghost, the Bloody Baron.
> 
> I did the research for Dumbledore’s speech with a Myth of the Week article by Don Engebretson on his website The Renegade Gardener. Two chapters left. Apologies for the wait for updates on all of my WIP stories – real life has left little writing time so far this year. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic) (anongrimm.tumblr.com)


	15. The Duel

*******************************  
**Arelia**  
*******************************

The Great Hall was almost empty when Arelia entered, out of breath and dripping wet. She used Raegan’s Drying Charm quickly as she moved up through the long tables and lingering students, heading for the teacher’s door behind their tables.

Before she could reach it, it burst open and the headmaster emerged with his teaching staff on his heels – but Professor Snape was not with them.

“Miss Galen, my heavens,” Professor Flitwick announced, “how did you get here? You should be resting –”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I had to come. Headmaster, please wait!”

Dumbledore paused briefly to pat her on the shoulder, but began to walk away again a breath later. “Happy to see you up and better, but we have a crisis on our hands at present!”

“Sir, if you try to stop them, you’ll kill the Ravenclaw team!”

Professors Flitwick and Sprout stopped at her side. McGonagall whirled to face her with her fingers over her mouth.

“Explain as we go,” the headmaster ordered. “We already know most of the Ravenclaw team is using Dark Arts magic against you and others.” He started off again.

“They hate the Dark Arts,” Flitwick protested in his wake. “Why would they agree? For that matter, Falchion despises all who use them, she wouldn’t do so herself; as an Auror, how could she?”

Speaking swiftly, aware they were out of time, Arelia raised her voice and stopped them all in their tracks as she told them what she’d learned: from Greer as he gloated over her supine form, and from overhearing Falchion’s plans.

“Professor Falchion set hexes on most of the team, telling them they were spells for their protection. Greer claimed he was the only one who realized they were Dark Arts Binding Spells, since he’s been dabbling on the sly. He gloated that he trusted her to keep him safe, and was loyal because she was teaching him so much more than he’d been able to learn on his own. But the others, sir, they don’t know – they think they’re just fighting a House feud!”

“Oh thank heavens,” Professor Flitwick exclaimed. “So Mr. Greer was the only one of my students aware of what he was doing!”

“If Professor Snape defeats Falchion in this duel, either by arresting or killing her, a hex combined with the Imperious Curse will make the Ravenclaw team try to kill him, whether it harms them or not. If they fail to do that, the hex will kill them!”

“Why on earth would she take such risks?” McGonagall asked.

Arelia took a deep breath. “Greer said she did it to frame Professor Snape, so the Ministry would believe he had hexed them during the duel. I think she realized it would control them better than anything else she could do, too. She wants him dead too intently to be careful in her methods anymore.”

“That is apparent, as Mr. Greer is dead,” McGonagall exclaimed. “All the more reason to stop this insanity now, Albus! We can find a way. What you saw in all those minds – we must!”

“No, please, you can’t just rush out there! If she triggers that hex, they will be forced to help her kill Professor Snape. Almost any other action could activate the same hex! Also, someone on the Ravenclaw team plans to catch the Snitch, which Falchion’s tampered with, and tuck it out of sight so that the Seekers can’t make a quick end to the game.”

“What can we do then?” Professor Sprout asked.

“We can join in,” Professor Flitwick said, his weary face turning grim.

“Filius, no!” Sprout protested.

Dumbledore slowly smiled at the Charms teacher, an expression that silenced the others. “I agree, as it happens. I’ll have the house-elves gather the prefects and the Head Boy and Girl, and we will all go out there – to watch, and to all appearances, to cheer on our favorite combatants. If we aren’t arresting Falchion or stopping the duel, the students should be safe. Meanwhile, we will at least be present – to assist when and as we can.”

Professor Sinistra stated what Arelia was about to point out herself. “Headmaster, no one would believe you were going out in the rain to cheer on a murderous feud of a duel.”

“All too right, of course, which brings us to the point of my plan; conceal yourselves as you can, and so shall I.”

With a wink, no doubt to ease their fears, the headmaster pointed his wand at his clothing and beard and proceeded to create the image of a slovenly version of himself. He would now be recognized by anyone who had ever been to the unsavory Hog’s Head pub in town.

When he was finished, McGonagall shook her head. “The absolute image of Aberforth. I hope this works, Albus.” Without another word, she changed into her Animagus cat form and followed him out into the storm.

One by one, the others followed suit, either transfiguring their appearance or masking it with a Glamour Charm as the headmaster had done, or by other magical means. Moments later, only Hagrid remained, at a loss, at Arelia’s side.

“Don’t worry about it,” she told his apologetic expression. “Just go out there and cheer for the Ravenclaw team. Throw in a few epithets aimed at Slytherin honor and no one will think twice.”

Hagrid frowned, clearly unhappy with that solution, but resigned to do it. Being close and ready to help was too important.

Arelia watched him go as the summoned prefects and others gathered around her. Spotting Xander, who had brought them, she gave him a sad smile. “Here we go.”

“Stay here; you aren’t recovered enough for this fight.”

“Sorry, I can’t. My friends are out there.”

“Then let me watch your back.”

Heartened by the gesture, she nodded. As the pretty brunette Head Girl, Caroline Racette, joined them, Arelia caught them up on the situation.

“Everyone needs to cheer for Ravenclaw – we can’t let them or Professor Falchion see our arrival as a threat.”

Silas nodded and held her shoulder gently a moment to reassure her before he turned to address the student prefects.

“All right, all of you,” he called out, “you heard her; we will be seen cheering for the Ravenclaw team. Our professors will be with us. Keep sharp and be ready. Wands hidden.”

_He was born to be Head Boy. Politics or teaching would be a better use of his talents over a Quidditch pro team. I’ll have to tell him later. I hope I get the chance._

Arelia walked off between the leaders of the student body and the others followed them without hesitation.

They all stepped out into the rain together and rushed to the Quidditch pitch. In the distance, through dark and lightning, they could see that the duel had already begun.

*******************************  
**Carine**  
*******************************

Shuddering in the cold wet wind, Carine held herself tightly and tried to keep her eyes on Kenneth in the whirl of players.

Beside her, Serena waited with her hands fisted at her side, her wand clutched in whitened knuckles. Her gaze followed Professor Snape as he mounted his broom to act as referee. He and Serena had arrived after the others, and Falchion’s goons had already made attempts to injure their enemies before the Potions master reached the pitch.

Raegan stood at her other side, cursing loudly. “One of those bastards just snitchnipped – he palmed it and shoved it in his pants! It’s the Chaser, Rabnott – did you see that?”

“To keep Tommy or Kenneth from making this a short game, I bet,” Serena said, glaring.

“Who is that?” Carine asked, pointing as she shouted to be heard over the wind.

“Greer’s replacement,” Serena responded. “A sixth year Beater, but he’s only played at home with friends before this, like me. I hope that bitch didn’t have time to hex him, too.”

The girls gasped as Richter swooped at Seamus Connor, the Ravenclaw Keeper. Vaughn plowed in from the other side at the same time, and seemed to lose control of his broom. Flying wildly, he collided with the Keeper, knocking him from his broom.

Seamus plummeted, limp as a doll, toward the ground until he was caught by Kenneth. The Seeker flew his unconscious teammate to the bleachers and hovered over the girls’ heads.

“Take him, guard him, okay?” he shouted.

They reached out with the help of others, fellow Slytherins, and a few people Carine didn’t recognize at all. Helping to ease Seamus down onto one of the bleachers, she looked back up to speak to Kenneth, to tell him about the Chaser palming the Snitch, but he had already sped off to rejoin the game.

“Where is Snape?”

“There,” Serena answered her, pointing.

The Potions master rode a broom like a professional player, a skill that surprised her – but he was defending his reckless and bloodthirsty team more than he was keeping an eye on Falchion.

Carine looked over to the unconscious Ravenclaw Keeper. Two Slytherin girls were sitting closer to his limp wet form than anyone else. “Hey, both of you,” she shouted over to them, “watch over him.”

Wide-eyed, they obeyed their prefect without protest. One of them scooted in and rested his head on her lap while the other moved in front of the bench he was draped on to guard him.

“What the – who is that?” Serena called out, “They can’t bring in a sub Keeper in the middle of the match!”

As if answering her outburst, a time-out was called by Snape. Players converged, argued, and split apart again.

“They’re going to allow it!” Serena glared up at the dim figure of Falchion, high in the air. “She’s watching Severus like a hawk – oh, God, no!”

The Ravenclaw Auror raised her wand, not to direct the game, but to aim it at Snape. Just as the hex or curse was cast, Tommy Brolin flew in between them and was struck in the face. Carine screamed as she watched Tommy’s hands fly up to his eyes – just as a Bludger struck the young Seeker in the back, spinning him into the dark below the stands.

“Oh, hell! Come on,” Raegan said, “we have to get down there. You lot,” he ordered the strangers around them, “come with me, and make it quick!”

Carine and Serena started to follow when Richter flew in front of them. Carine jumped and cursed. “Watch it, you ass!”

“Serena, come on, play Seeker; we can’t give up now!” To their shock, he held Tommy’s broom.

“You caught that instead of him?” Carine shrieked.

Serena grabbed the broom without hesitation. “I’ll do it.”

“What? You can’t! It’s too –”

“I have to tell Severus what’s happened, and about them stealing the Snitch. Maybe he can call another time-out to ‘discuss’ it with that wretched woman. Check on Tommy – I’ll be okay.”

“Wait, Serena! Don’t do it!”

“What the hell is she doing?” Raegan asked, grabbing her arm.

“They wanted her to take Tommy’s place. She’s doing it to warn Snape.”

“Bloody fool, she’s a choice target!” he responded. “Come on, we have to get down to the pitch.”

The storm and the violence above her head made Carine feel dizzy as she stumbled along after Raegan and the others. In one flash of lightning, she thought she saw the bartender from the Hogshead rushing downward with them, and then he was lost in the dark once more.

Pelting across the soggy grass, she stopped watching her footing when she spied Tommy Brolin a few feet ahead. Tripping on her school robes, she almost fell on his bloody body, crashing hard onto her knees right in front of him. Choking on a ragged scream, she stared with her hands over her mouth at the black and blue flesh of the Seeker’s neck, his head lying at an odd angle on the dripping grass.

Everything tilted then, and she felt herself about to faint. Strong hands fell on her shoulders, making her look up. Arelia and her Hufflepuff – the new Head Boy – were beside the man who held her upright. She had thought it was Raegan, but then the Hogshead bartender’s face seemed to melt into the grieved features of the headmaster.

“Help him!” The words were torn from her, voice brittle with panic.

The strong hands held her, trying to comfort and support. “He’s gone…”

“Do something! Help them! Too many have been hit already!”

She wrenched her shoulders out of his grip and leaned over Tommy’s cold body to shield it as she glared upward at the other combatants. Yanking out her wand, she was shocked to find herself pointing it at the headmaster.

“Let me show you, then you can help us,” he spoke kindly, somehow making himself heard over the din of storm and combat. Gently placing a hand under her forearm, he led her raise her wand and aim it at a member of her team. “Stun them, catch them before they come to harm. We must be careful to maintain the illusion of defeat – to keep them all safe – as many as we can.”

“Illusion of defeat,” she hissed, glancing down at the Seeker. _He was so young…_

Lifting her head in defiance, she tried to locate Kenneth but couldn’t spot him. Tears spilled warm on her cold cheeks as she aimed her wand at a Slytherin player, not even sure who it was. She would make it look like they were hit to get them out of the horror. She cast nonverbally, focused on the target.

_Stupefy! _Studying the fall and the rushing of the body toward the ground, she cast again. _Arresto Momentum!_

*******************************  
**Severus**  
*******************************

_It was the Conjunctivitis Curse; blinded, Brolin never saw the Bludger – and Falchion meant the curse for me._

Severus couldn’t break away to help his Seeker, either; the Auror kept him where she wanted him by aiming more charms and curses at the other players. He fought to set up a shot at her, but the Ravenclaw team was ready for that, and soon, they were all firing offensive spells at him and his team. The pretense of a Quidditch game abandoned, each team rallied to fight, with murder on far too many of their minds.

Dodging a misfired spell, Severus was surprised to see another shot strike home – from the direction of the ground. Whatever had been cast, it struck Garland off his broom and sent him diving helplessly to the earth.

Aiming his wand to save the Chaser from such a fall, he saw another burst of magic spare the young man injury, even as it set him still and unmoving on the grass.

_Someone on the pitch is knocking Slytherins out of this game – is it friend or foe?_ Even as he thought the question, Flint was hit from below, only to land as harmlessly – and unconsciously – as Garland. _The Ravenclaw team pays them no attention, perhaps assuming another of their own struck them down. Could the one responsible be a friend after all, keeping them from harm?_

Trading and dodging blows openly with Falchion now, Severus lost track of individual players for a time. Then a slender figure approached from below him on a broom. It could barely be made out in its dark robes, but the rushing charge might be an attack. Whirling to face the new threat, he was shocked when the figure called his given name in an all-too-familiar female voice.

“Severus! I have to tell you –”

Rage engulfed him, nearly blinding him. “Get out of it, now!”

Serena Kistler was not skilled on a broom – not at the level of the other combatants. She yanked on it to avoid a Bludger and almost unseated herself as she turned to hover at his side.

“Tommy’s down, he may be dead, Severus! They took the Snitch –”

Severus reached out with his free hand and grabbed the handle of her broom. “This isn’t a game anymore, Serena, or even a duel – it’s a battle to the death. Go see to the Seeker and stay out of the air!”

“But I have to –”

“Don’t make me curse you myself! They will try to kill you more than the others, for your family’s crimes. Now go!”

He felt the vibration first, through the wood of the broom she rode, and then searing pain followed as splinters cut into his arm, chest and face. Turning his head and closing his eyes, he finally heard the explosion as the broom handle was destroyed by a Blasting Curse.

Opening his eyes again in horror, he saw the terror in her emerald eyes as she began to fall, her face and throat cut and pierced by shards of wood.

The battle forgotten, he swooped down, plummeting after her through the storm. The horror of hearing her broken and torn scream ran like ice through his veins. Moments before she struck the ground, he caught her with a Slowing Charm, leaping off his broom to help her.

On the wind and coming fast, he heard Falchion’s voice. Pouring all of her hate into the word, she meant it to kill.

“Crucio!”

Agony twisted him, driving him to his knees. Falling to his side, he curled in on himself and screamed as the pain took the world away.

~ ~ ~

“Wake, Snape, and watch.”

Severus struggled to regain his senses. A brown blur in front of his eyes slowly formed into the broom he had used in the duel. Beyond it, dim and distant shapes moved closer.

_Serena!_ Before he could find her, his enemy spoke again.

“She is mortally wounded but they might save her, if they could reach her in time – but they won’t. Watch, Snape – watch as I kill your little snake. Or, if you can, get on your knees and beg for her life. If you confess to your crimes and go to Azkaban where you belong, perhaps she might live.”

_She was only a foot or two from me, and Falchion stands between us now. I cannot kill her or the others will die… _Reaching out, fighting to rise to his knees, his fingers inched toward the handle of the broom.

“Yes, Snape, beg – beg for her life.”

“Please…” he whispered, his fingers stretching out farther, as if to steady him as his body rose.

When he touched the wood, his hands curled around it. Letting out a roar of rage, he lifted the broom and swung it upward, though he could barely see. Falchion began to speak, to curse him again, but then he heard the crack as the broom struck her temple. His fingers convulsed once with pain, dropping the broom, but the curse stopped before it fell and then the Auror fell beside it.

He crawled over her unconscious form without looking at her. Beyond her, silent in the wet grass and rain, the silhouette of Serena waited, illuminated for a moment by a flash of lightning.

Crouching at her side, his heart leaped with hope to see her eyes move and find him. Then she smiled, and blood ran from the corners of her mouth. Fumbling for his wand which lay near them, he lifted it to mend her wounds and finally saw the thick splintered end of wood lodged in the side of her throat. Blood poured from the injury, staining the silver of her Slytherin scarf to scarlet.

The light was fading from the emerald eyes as he tried to summon the words of the healing spells he knew.

Serena’s hand shifted to touch his wrist where his free hand pressed against her ribs. People were running, their steps blending into the thunder overhead. The noise nearly drowned out her voice as she struggled to speak. Severus leaned down, his forehead and tears touching hers.

“Severus … do you … love me yet…?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger! Aaaahh! Sorry about that. I’m actually finishing the last chapter’s edits and additions this weekend, so it shouldn’t be a long wait at all. I'll fix any typos as I find them. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic) (anongrimm.tumblr.com)


	16. Silent Stones

*******************************  
**Arelia**  
*******************************

_The fire is dying … and he just watches it._

The Potions master had probably forgotten they were still in the room, but she remained rooted to the floor and waited as Raegan, far braver than she, tried again.

“Sir, do you want me to ask the headmaster to come here?”

_He turns his head and stares at him, as if he’s forgotten who he is. Oh, Severus… I’m so sorry._

“Tell him,” the professor muttered, his voice barely audible, “that I will come to him this afternoon.” His pale hands twisted in the bloodstained silver scarf he still held, the long fingers trembling slightly. “Go, Mr. Marcus … both of you.”

“Can we get you … anything, Severus?” Arelia asked.

He winced at the sound of his own name. “I will … rest awhile, Miss Galen. Go … please.”

Raegan stood and led her out. In the dungeon corridor, she reached for him and he held her close.

“He didn’t even look at you when you told him they sent Falchion to Azkaban.”

Stroking her hair, he answered, “If you’re right about … Serena – I’m not surprised.” He kissed her forehead and then walked with her out of the dungeons, his arm around her waist.

In the entrance hall, they met Carine and Kenneth. She was wearing his ring now, and the magnificent stone cast rainbows on the walls and floor, the flashes playing with the sunlight coming through the open doors. None of them moved too close at first, taking in the somber crowd, the oppressive air in the castle.

All around them, students with trunks, owl cages, and various pets headed out in waves to catch the train for home. It was a sight they had seen many times – except this morning, every face around them was gaunt with grief, fear, and shame.

“Now they’re sorry for that useless feud,” Arelia muttered to her friends. “Either joining in or doing nothing to stop it – I see no difference.”

“Some of them were too frightened to intervene,” Kenneth said quietly, “especially the younger ones. A hard lesson learned by the rest, and even though it’s too little, too late for some, the others will remember it.”

Carine held his arm. “Hopefully, they’ll all be stronger for it in their school years to come, but I’m glad I’m done with school.” Trying to smile, she added, “You’ll probably miss the classes, Arelia – you never wanted school to end since our first year.”

Blinking back tears and turning away from watching the other students, she managed a soft smile for her friend. “I’ve changed so much since that first day. I don’t even want the same things anymore. I’d miss you lot, but I don’t plan to give you a chance to be out of sight for long.”

The next time they would see each other would be at two different funerals. The thought silenced them all again for a time.

“Look there,” Raegan said, drawing their attention to a small Ravenclaw boy struggling with his trunk while holding a toad. A Sytherin girl, older, approached him, smiling. As they watched, she handed the boy her rat and hauled the trunk for him.

“She’s one of the girls I told to watch over Seamus when he got knocked out in the storm last night,” Carine told them. “I’m going to believe they can all get past this. I need to. I need … something hopeful to think about.”

Arelia took a deep breath and let it out quietly, trying to calm her tension and worry. To help Carine, she worked on setting it all aside for this moment.

“They’ll be okay.” Looking for a distraction, she smiled at the glitter of bright black eyes on her friend’s shoulder under the blonde curls. Arelia told Kenneth, “I hope you like opinionated rats – Latimer can take some getting used to, and he’s not fond of males at all.”

“Carine’s going to give me the secret to winning him over.”

“And we have hope, because weddings are good luck.” Arelia stepped forward and embraced her best friend. “Congratulations – officially this time.”

“Thanks. Don’t you two miss our wedding or we’ll hex you.”

“Don’t worry – we’ll be practiced at not missing them by then, since Xander’s is a month ahead of yours.”

Carine sniffed, pretending disdain at the mention of the Head Boy, though they’d become friends over the long and terrible night on the pitch, fighting to save lives. “As long as ours is bigger and better, that’s just fine.”

“He won’t resent it, that’s for sure,” Kenneth added. “I don’t know which has him happier – his wedding or his spot with the Harriers.”

“Are you upset you didn’t get a spot on a team?” Raegan asked him.

“No, I’m not – since I turned down the Kenmare Kestrels. I’m planning on spoiling Carine rotten – and learning how to run the family empire in my spare time. There’ll be plenty of time for Quidditch – like when I’m teaching it to our sons.”

“Sons! Listen to him! He thinks you get to pick what you get,” Carine retorted, and then laughed. “You can teach our daughters, too – if they want to learn.”

“I’d be honored,” he responded with a grin.

Raegan smiled. “Speaking of sons, did you hear the latest big rumor?”

“‘The Boy Who Lived’ is coming to Hogwarts next year? Yeah, the whole castle is buzzing about it,” Kenneth replied.

“‘The Boy Who Lived’? What does that mean?” Arelia asked.

“Muggle-borns – they never learn our gossip, just lessons and spells and junk. Honestly,” Carine answered. Covering her lips, she giggled.

Taking her hands, Raegan explained. “It’s a legend, a heroic story – about a baby boy who was attacked by the Dark Lord and lived to tell about it.”

“Except that he’s not telling about it,” Carine interrupted. “I heard no one even told him a thing – he probably thinks he’s a Muggle; hell, he wouldn’t even know what a Muggle was, I guess.”

Grinning, Raegan said, “The Wizarding World may eat him whole in his first year at Hogwarts. Ah, well – no great loss, since he’ll likely get plopped into Gryffindor.”

“Poor thing,” Arelia joked. “Everyone knows the only house worth anything is Slytherin, right?”

“That’s right.”

Kenneth sighed. “I’ll learn to put up with my black rat – how will you manage to endure yours?”

Smiling as Raegan embraced her from behind to grin at them all, Arelia attempted to shrug. “I guess I’ll figure out a way, since he doesn’t seem to be easily gotten rid of.”

“I know where you live, too,” he answered. Turning her, he kissed her deeply and she melted in his arms. “Give me time, and maybe I’ll make you Mrs. Arelia Marcus yet – if you’re good.”

Kenneth cleared his throat. “Your … ah … your parents won’t mind?”

“She’s exquisite – and her family is rich,” Raegan answered, ticking these points off on his fingers without releasing her. “That’s two out of three. Maybe we’ll just lie about your ancestry,” he suggested with a smug smirk.

“Maybe they could learn to get over their prejudices,” Arelia responded, her eyebrow lifting. “And did I say I was going to marry you?”

“I haven’t asked yet,” he replied, undaunted. “By the time I do, you will – trust me.” Winking at her, he pulled her into another kiss to silence her sharp reply.

“Come on,” Arelia said, when she could both escape and breathe again. “I have to get Rhiannon caged before the train leaves without us. She hates leaving Hogwarts; she’s been dodging me all morning.”

“Go ahead, I’m catching the Knight Bus later,” Carine answered.

“Why?”

“The headmaster summoned me; Kenneth is walking me there now, before he leaves.” Carine smiled at her concerned expression. “Don’t worry about it, everything will be fine. We’ll see you soon, in a few days anyway.”

Why they were meeting then loomed again. Sunshine was streaming in through the open doors, but it didn’t feel like it belonged there among the sad and silent students moving through the space around them.

Kenneth pulled them back from that lingering sorrow. “Dinner in Bristol, after the weekend?”

Arelia forced a smile. “I can’t wait. Oh, could you tell the headmaster that Professor Snape will see him this afternoon? If we go up there, we’ll miss the train for sure.”

“I’ll tell him. Um … how is he?” Carine asked.

“The same. He hasn’t slept – but I guess none of us have. He didn’t pay any attention when Raegan told him about Falchion.”

Carine nodded. “Professor Flitwick is still stunned too, with most of his Quidditch team facing an intensive investigation at the Ministry. We just came from his office; Kenneth wanted to say goodbye.”

“They’re alive, the damn fools,” Kenneth said, his tone bitter. “Sometimes I think brains can get you into more trouble than stupidity.”

“Richter’s to blame for not trying to save Tommy,” Raegan told him. “No one actually saw it – burns me that the Ministry isn’t grilling him, too.”

“So he just gets to graduate and go play with his dream team?” Arelia asked, her tone dripping with distaste.

Raegan smiled with grim satisfaction at them all. “He won’t. My mother holds just the right strings, there. Puddlemere United will be pulling their offer to have him join their reserve team. The esteemed Lady Marcus adored Tommy as much as I did, and no one crosses her – including my father. Richter will find that out – probably just in time to start counting on it for his future.”

“Good,” Arelia replied, allowing a bit of vindictiveness to soothe her anger.

“We should go, it’s time to see the headmaster,” Kenneth reminded Carine.

“Okay. Well, bye for now. Love you both.” Her eyes filling with tears, Carine hugged Arelia again, and then she embraced Raegan, too.

The boys shook hands, and then the Ravenclaw Seeker and the former Slytherin Tutor walked off, hand in hand. Watching them go, Arelia sighed.

“If you’re honestly worried about my family’s views on Muggle-borns, don’t be,” Raegan tried to reassure her, misunderstanding her concern as they watched the other couple head off. “Rich marrying rich is far more important to them than marrying pure-bloods. Plus, I always get my way.”

“Do you?” she tried to tease, but it sounded hollow. “No one crosses your mother, right?”

“Not an issue – my happiness is her mission in life.”

“Do I make you happy?” Her arms lifted to hold herself and to hide the tremble of her fingers.

“Endlessly and ridiculously happy.” When he reached out and embraced her from behind again, Arelia leaned back against him as he whispered in her ear, “You can wait until you’re ready – I can wait forever, if I must. Still, I’m going to tell you that I love you, at least once a day … just to be certain that you know it.”

Tears stung her eyes. Grief mingled oddly with hope and joy at those words. “I know it – you’ve proven that without words. I don’t need to wait, Raegan. Maybe I don’t know what I want from life yet, but I want you in my life. I wasn’t sure I could love but now I can say you’ve shown me how – you and our friends. And I do love you – more than I thought I could.”

His embrace was warm. It made her tears melt and fall, silently. The space around them grew almost empty. Yet the bright sun just outside couldn’t warm and disperse her sorrow.

_They had so much life ahead of them. Tommy. Selena. So young, so full of promise – snatched away by pointless cruelty and useless hate. Here we stand, able to walk into the sunlight if we choose to … with so much life … ahead of us._

“Penny for your thoughts, Miss Capulet?” Raegan asked, his voice a soft comfort.

Arelia allowed her tension to slowly fade away, smiling sadly when his arms encircled her closer. She couldn’t untangle everything she was going through to truly express it, so she chose the simpler thing to say. “I feel guilty for being happy.”

His head turned, his lips a light brush against her cheek. “Don’t be. You’ve been through hell and back, we all have. They wouldn’t deny you happiness – no one would.”

“I know. I just wish…”

The words were lost to tears and Raegan held her close, unable to answer her. His hands on her folded arms began to tremble and she understood when he needed to hide his tears in her hair.

*******************************  
**Carine**  
*******************************

“Miss Lachlan, that is all we need to discuss, if you understand that there will be no repercussions for the past?”

“Yes, sir – I thank you, sir.” Carine started to rise from the chair but the headmaster lifted his hand to stop her.

“If you would remain, Miss Lachlan, I would like you here when Professor Snape arrives, which should be momentarily.”

“Um, yes, sir, but if you’re going to talk about anything private, he won’t want me here.”

He didn’t reply, launching instead into the topic of the ‘Boy Who Lived’, for reasons that mystified her. When the Potions master arrived, he was still going on about it, though one look at her Head of House’s expression made her wish he would stop.

“And of course the heroism of the mother cannot be denied – stepping between her son and certain death. The story is well known, naturally, but I believe that some heroic acts are not known, and they do not simply end in a flash of glory, either.”

“Headmaster, I don’t understand, but … can we … change the subject?”

“The subject, Miss Lachlan is heroism – not the sort that fits in the space of time it takes to tell a tale by the fire, but the sort that keeps on, for years unending, with no glory or redemption in sight. That sort of heroism lives in secret, and often without hope.”

“So why do it?” Carine asked, bewildered.

“Ah!” Dumbledore answered, one long bony finger pointing upward. “Why indeed. That is the crux of it, you see. I believe, for some, that they do it because it is a sort of penance, or perhaps –”

“Because without it,” Professor Snape interrupted, “they would die, having no further use for this world.” He straightened to his full imposing height, his expressive lips stiff with cold anger. “Headmaster, if you have no further legitimate use for me at present, I would rather remain in my chambers as the general rabble exits the school.”

Carine sank slightly in her chair as the men gauged each other in silence over her head. Seeking reassurance, she stared down at her engagement ring.

“There were one or two legitimate things I wanted to clear up, Severus, if you will allow me.”

Glancing up, Carine watched as the headmaster picked up a loose mass of cloth from his desk. It was obviously a rare magical item, a cloak, and when he slipped his hand partly inside it as he folded it, the cloak, and his fingers, disappeared. She stifled a gasp behind her fingers.

“You gave that to Falchion?” the professor asked, his tone turning hot with barely controlled rage.

“She borrowed it – without permission. I wasn’t aware she even knew it was in this room. I’m keeping it safe, as a favor to a friend.”

Snape’s look turned murderous, and Carine wondered if the headmaster knew what he was doing.

“Safe.” The Potions master’s voice dripped venom before it froze, containing and concealing his outrage once more.

“Safer, now – I assure you.”

A moment after replacing the cloak in a cabinet, which he locked magically with an intricate bit of spellcasting, he continued without any concern for the volatile mood of his teacher.

“I suppose the knowledge of how and where the body of Mr. Greer was found will not surprise you, Severus?” Holding up a hand to forestall any protest, he added, “I know you did not kill him, at least not directly. It is not Mr. Greer’s death I wish to discuss, however, but the lives of the rest of his teammates. True, they have a grueling test or three ahead of them, but it is far preferable, especially from the point of view of their families, to burying them. Without your resourceful handling of the crisis, on many levels, we would be digging far more graves.”

“Two of which are more than we should need,” Snape answered. “Yet I have not seen many among the students flooding the halls who were clutched with grief. One Ravenclaw is dead, a young man few liked, even among his housemates; the others, of course, are only Slytherins. Perhaps their peers are grateful – less of us would seem to equal peace and harmony.”

“Not all of them, Severus – not even most.”

“I’ve read it in their minds; relief that their own friends are unharmed is as charitable as they get.”

“You have to read their hearts, too. They are frightened, bewildered – and the world grows darker as they go to their homes to escape what they can’t even understand; yet they feel it … and it terrifies them. You and I, we know what is coming. The question is, are we prepared to fight it?”

“I know you will fight. I … will do as I have done.” He glanced at Carine as he said it, and she bowed her head to avoid his searching gaze.

“Next year, your burden will be greater than it has ever been. You know why. Are you prepared to meet this new challenge?”

“What is one more burden; one more drop of water in the cauldron will not stop what must be done.”

“Thank you, Severus. I needed … to hear it – that is all.”

“If … that is all, sir, I will go.” He began to turn away, but Dumbledore’s voice called him back, the question making his eyes narrow.

“Is your effort at teaching a tutor to help with the less gifted students going to continue next year? It may be – a distraction – none of us can afford.”

For a moment, Carine feared the Potions master might draw his wand. His lips curled over barred teeth before he answered.

“Miss Lachlan’s troubles impeded the teaching, and I have since dissolved the post entirely. Sir.”

Dumbledore nodded and Carine blushed fiercely, afraid of what he knew.

“All for the best. As to Miss Lachlan’s troubles, that is another area where we owe you gratitude. She has mentioned that your help was invaluable. Now you may help again – by escorting her back to the dungeons to pack.”

“Yes, sir.” He whirled and exited, pausing long enough to glower at Carine until she jumped up to follow him.

Just before she left, she caught an odd look on the headmaster’s face and startled when he gave her a kind smile. Shaking her head, she closed his door and hopped onto the revolving stairs after the professor.

Emerging past the statue that guarded the stairs, she was surprised when her teacher offered her his hand to help her down.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Do you feel you require my escort, Miss Lachlan? The danger is past.”

“Well, no, sir – but I’d like it, all the same. What if I never see you again?”

“Most of your peers would call that a blessing.”

“They’d be clueless idiots, too. Please?”

He didn’t reply but indicated with a gesture of his hand that he would walk with her.

“The headmaster told me how he and the other teachers were zapping the Slytherin team, to get them out of the fight safely,” Carine said, just to break the oppressive silence. “We were helping them after … Tommy…”

“Too little, too late, but the conflict couldn’t be prevented without greater loss of life. Yet, I do have … profound regrets.”

“We couldn’t do it any other way,” she protested, cautious. “Not with those hexes in place.”

“Perhaps prior to their casting, Falchion could have met an unexpected end.”

Carine stopped abruptly in surprise, but he didn’t, so she hurried to catch up, matching his long stride with some difficulty.

“The school needs you, sir,” she whispered. Deciding to ignore his baleful glance, she took refuge in the topic of the headmaster’s news. “He also said that the Ravenclaw team knows now that Falchion was using Dark Arts to bind them. He claims they’re sorry about the whole feud over it.”

As she spoke, they had entered the dungeons and headed down the stairs. A new and hostile voice interrupted them, making Carine jump as the figure stepped out of the shadows.

“They’re sorry they got caught dabbling in the same shit they accused us of!”

She had barely registered that the speaker was Ferris Richter before Professor Snape had struck the boy with the back of his hand. He staggered and fell down the last few steps, landing in a heap on the stones.

His fingers wiping blood from his lower lip, Richter reached for his wand as he struggled to rise, but Snape was on him too fast. Hauling him up bodily, he shoved his student’s back against the stone wall. The long black shaft of his wand pressed into Richter’s throat.

Carine stood still in shock, unable to stop him and unsure if she even should. The dungeons around them were not quiet, either. A few Slytherins still coming and going began to gather on the stairs and below in the corridor. Whispering and shifting, they watched and waited.

“Mr. Richter… I am told it was your brilliant inspiration to hand Mr. Brolin’s broom to Miss Kistler, after failing to give up the fight and assist your Seeker at once. The Ministry may have decided that Falchion was to blame for all, but I do not agree. Today, you leave this place, and my authority, behind you. Yet should I hear of you continuing to foster this feud beyond these walls, I shall see to it that you join Falchion in her fate.” Turning his head up and then down the hall, pinning several of his students with his cold black stare, he added, “This I promise to each one of you – drop this feud or you may not live to enjoy the fruits of your education.”

With a snarl, he released Richter – who remained pressed against the wall in terror – and stalked through students who scrambled to get out of his way. Startled, Carine followed him, but no one else dared.

They didn’t speak at all until she moved ahead of him to open the door to the common room. Passing more students who were getting ready to leave, she opened the door to the Slytherin Tutor’s chamber and went inside. The Potions master remained in the doorway, and watched her silently.

She did not have the guts to mention the encounter with Richter but she was glad she had witnessed it. She wanted to tell him Richter’s Quidditch future would be ruined, but his cold quiet and barely hidden anguish was threatening to turn her tongue to clay.

Turning to face him, she blurted out, “Thanks again, for helping me get past my … problems. If I can ever return the favor, let me know.”

He shook his head, his gaze falling away from her to stare down at the wand he still clutched in his fist. “The only one who could is gone – again.”

“I know, I miss her…” Realizing what he’d said, she asked, “Again?”

“Death has gathered his roses, Miss Lachlan – and none now will grow … not anymore.”

“I’m sorry … I don’t understand.”

Wincing, he whispered, “You do not need to. Goodbye, Miss Lachlan. Good fortune on your marriage.” He turned to go but she couldn’t let him – not yet.

“Wait!” Rushing to stop him, she slipped in front of him and embraced him. He was unyielding in her arms, unwilling to accept the comfort of it. “What did you mean about death and roses?”

“Ask Miss Galen – perhaps she would recall the answer to the riddle.”

Reluctantly, she released him. “Okay… Well, I guess I have to pack.” _God, I wish I knew how to talk to you…_

“Where is your punctiliously diligent rat? It’s always glaring from somewhere.”

For a moment, she was confused. _Why would he care about my pet?_

And then, after all the Occlumency lessons with Kenneth, she caught the gossamer thread of his touch in her mind. He had heard her wish. His Legilimency, once a terror, was now merely another tool he could use to help her.

Carine smiled then, grateful for both the change of topic and the proof that he cared about helping her feel more at ease with him.

“I handed him off to Kenneth before I went into the headmaster’s office. They have to work on getting along and may as well start now.”

“Are you leaving as soon as you pack?”

“Not just yet – I’m going to go visit Hagrid for a bit first. He gets pretty lonely when school is out. I hope he might make some friends among the students next year. I’d ask you to visit, but I suspect neither of you would enjoy it.”

“No, we would not.” The ghost of a smile played on his lips for a heartbeat as he tucked his wand into its pocket on his cassock. That small smile had warmed his features for just a moment before the chill of grief returned. “Goodbye, Carine – I wish you well.”

“Goodbye, Severus.”

She watched him go with tears in her eyes. He shut the door to the chamber behind him without a backward glance, leaving her in silence.

Carine looked around the room once, trying to invoke memories – but it had become Serena’s in all but name, and only her echo remained.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the fire. “I’m sorry you won’t grow up, get married, have babies – or just fight with Severus for years, trying to be happy. I – I’m just … sorry…”

~ ~ ~

Stepping off the Knight Bus onto a residential street in London, Carine was met by her fiancé, who had roses in one hand and a somewhat disgruntled rat clinging to his shoulder.

They kissed and Latimer took the opportunity to scramble from Kenneth’s shoulder to hers. Taking the roses, she admired them. Some of them were open, releasing a sweet and innocent scent – and some were buds, waiting to bloom.

Her fingers reached up to stroke the soft tightly curled petals and when they did, the cramping old fear did not come.

“Professor Snape told me before I left the school to give you roses. I knew you didn’t like them, so I said I was going to get lilies. After he turned white as a sheet – well, whiter for him – he said you’d like roses now. Without doubt, that is the oddest man on the planet.”

“He’s right, though, I do like them … now.”

“Care to enlighten me? I feel like I’m missing something.”

“Later? Right now I just want to be happy.”

“All right, we’ll be happy,” he pronounced with a dramatic flourish of a short bow and a beautiful smile. “What the future Mrs. Shaw wants, she gets.”

Laughing with healing joy, she embraced him before they walked off toward her home, his protecting arm around her. The front door was opening and her smiling parents were coming out to greet them.

_For once, there’s nothing in the house to fear – nothing at all. Thank you, Severus, and I hope someday your pain will end. I wish you well, too – whatever you face in the coming years._

*******************************  
**Severus**  
*******************************

Apparating just outside of an old cemetery in a West Country village, he passed soundlessly through the kissing gate at its entrance. Around him, Godric’s Hollow was quiet, its populace perhaps busy preparing their evening meals.

Severus left the path that led to the small church and ranged out through the stones. It had been more than five years but he knew the way, and found the white marble stone without hesitation.

His eyes skipped contemptuously past the name of the husband, the honor to lie at her side forever something he’d never believed the man had earned or deserved.

He wanted to sink down and lie over her resting place, to run his fingers though the grass that covered her – yet he couldn’t move. His body stood, rigid and unresponsive.

Weak fading sunlight gleamed in the letters of a name: Lily Potter.

Beneath her name, the stone read, ‘The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.’

His lips moved, as if to speak her name aloud, but he found he could not, not yet. The wind rose to blow leaves and fallen flower petals around the base of the stone.

_Always, I shall love you, I swear it. Always._

Severus did not move as the wind tugged at his cloak, whipping it around him. It was warm now but it would turn cold again, and then the old wound would tear, suppurate, and poison him once more.

Sucking in a breath, he fell to one knee before her.

_How can I look into the boy’s eyes, perhaps the image of hers, and strive to protect him while he also wears the face of his father?_ “Lily … I beg you … help me to do what I must do.”

Sunset had begun to paint the sky when he was finally able to rise.

Staring down at the headstone, he knew there were more graves he should visit, if he had the courage to do so. Stepping backward away from the mounds of the fallen, he Disapparated, the crack of the spell echoing in the graveyard.

~ ~ ~

The cemetery was small but kept beautifully. Nestled in green parkland amidst the bustling city of London, it was a tiny emerald jewel of peace. The funeral services were long over. He had attended that morning, keeping vigil from a respectful distance under the trees.

Apparating into that same spot, he discovered that he was not the only one lingering that evening; the other mourners, whether they knew him or not, instinctively kept their distance. He half listened to snatches of their muttered conversations.

One woman spoke to an elderly man in a hushed tone as they turned to leave. “Since the Kistler family isn’t well off, the Brolins gave them the space next to their son to lay their daughter to rest. They were friends, I hear.”

“Such sadness,” the man replied.

Farther off, a Slytherin third year girl who had worshipped Serena whispered to her friend, a girl likely old enough to start school the following year. “Serena was buried in a gorgeous rich dress and blouse in Slytherin colors with black boots – her favorite outfit, from a secret admirer.”

“I wanted to meet her, from all you said.” The girl began to cry.

“Oh, Pansy, shhh, I’m so sorry. Serena would have loved you. She was so kind. Come on, my mother’s here, we have to go.”

These torments drifted away as the violent colors of the sunset began to darken.

Professor Severus Snape walked silently among the stones until he reached two fresh graves, side by side. Approaching the headstone on the left, his hand rested on it briefly.

“They cheated you out of so much, Thomas Brolin. When your enemies are done with their show of tearing sackcloth and smearing ashes, will they remember your name? I can promise you that I shall. Sleep … sleep in peace.”

At the other grave, he knelt on the grass, his fingers tracing the letters of a name he couldn’t bring himself to say.

_‘The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.’_ _Is it a riddle or a mockery? Death is the victor, then, now – forever. If I could defeat it, I would free you from this prison of dirt and rot and watch as you breathe, live, and smile up at me – as you once did before our world turned mad._

His body sank lower over his knees, both hands lifting to press against the black granite gravestone, shuddering at the feel of the grit under his fingers, the cold lifeless stone under his palms.

In his memory, her rich voice spoke the words of wisdom she had been taught as a child. _‘Don’t wait for the sunset to see the beauty in the world. Breathe it in as the sun crosses the sky – for night comes with swift stealth.’_

Darkness descended, blotting out the name and hiding the figure of the man who knelt, broken, before it.

_I waited too long._

Overcome, his throat closing, he thought of a question she had asked, again and again.

His voice breaking, he whispered to the stone, “Yes.”

***FINI***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My research discovered that in general in England, it is recommended to wait at least six months to install a headstone, if not twelve to eighteen months, as the ground has to have a chance to settle. Since my final scene needs to take place after the school year and before Harry Potter’s first year begins, I don’t have that luxury of time. Therefore, I’m just going to say that the Wizarding World has spells for that issue, problem solved. Thanks as always for reading, and sticking with me through an angst-fest two-hankie story. I love Severus but that runs afoul of being a canon fan and an angst fiend. - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic) (anongrimm.tumblr.com)


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